Reality Check
by Beledi1113
Summary: When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.
1. Chapter 1

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – This has been floating around in my head for a while.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 1 – Predicament**

"Call Kate," Castle said as he sped up slightly now that the rain had slacked off.

He smiled when she answered on the second ring.

"Hey," she said sleepily.

"Hope I didn't wake you," Castle said. "I didn't realize it was so late."

"Just reading a book to pass the time," Beckett replied.

"Not one of mine, I hope," Castle remarked.

Beckett laughed. "Nope, your reputation's intact. It's one of Alexis' economic textbooks." She stifled a yawn. "How'd it go?"

"Killed 'em, as usual," Castle said. "Nothing like hordes of adoring fans standing in the rain to get a book signed to stroke a man's ego."

"Well, I'm glad that didn't go to your head," replied Beckett.

"I should be home in about 2 hours," Castle said, glancing at the time on the dashboard.

"Drive carefully," Beckett responded. "I love you, babe."

"I love you too," Castle replied. "Phone off," he said smiling, thinking of home and what awaited him.

Suddenly he cursed angrily and jerked the steering wheel to the right to avoid the deer that had leapt into the road in front of him, startled into stillness by the headlights.

He had a sinking feeling as the tires fought against the slick road for a moment and then lost as the back end fishtailed and the car spun around. It gained traction for a moment on the gravel on the side of the road, only to lose it again as the car careened down the embankment and rolled over several times.

The car finally came to a rest wrapped around a tree and the night noises of the forest resumed after a few minutes.

# # # # # # # # # # #

Castle woke slowly to a throbbing head and an intense pressure that surrounded him, paralyzing him. He blinked open his eyes, only to realize that they stung and all he could see was a reddish darkness. It did no good to try to move his arms – the car seemed to envelope his body so that he couldn't move, couldn't even struggle against the metal pinning him to the seat. The only thing that he could tell was that he was right-side up, not upside down fortunately.

He coughed several times and then rasped out, "Call Kate," only to be greeted by silence. He tried several more times but with the same results.

It was then that he started to panic and struggled against the restraints. It was late at night – would anyone be on the road at this time? There was a full moon, but could they see him if they were? What if he was stuck here forever? What if he died here?

When he didn't come home at the expected time, he was sure Kate would start a search for him, but how long would that take?

He had some bumps and bruises, but didn't feel too bad otherwise – he just couldn't move. How long could he last without water? Without food?

He then attempted to yelled, but it came out almost a pathetic squeak because of the pressure on his chest.

Castle froze when he heard something thunk on the roof of the car. What if there were wild animals that might try to eat him?

"That was really amazing," came the eerily familiar voice as the man peered into the front of the car where the windshield had been. "If you give up writing, you certainly have a career as a stunt driver. Of course, I don't think you're supposed to wreck the car. Here, let me."

Castle heard a water bottle being opened and then felt a wet rag being run over his face to clear the blood out of his eyes.

"There – that's better," the man said, leaning against the bent door. "So what do you suggest we do to pass the time until they find you?"

Castle stared at the man. The hair and the face were different, but the voice and eyes were the same.

"Tyson," he whispered.

# # # # # # # # #


	2. Chapter 2 - Missing in Action

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks so much for all the follows, reviews, and favorites. You are awesome. And on a procedural note, there is no waiting period for reporting someone missing. Just a short chapter before tonight's Castle episode – can't wait.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 2 – Missing in Action**

Kate smiled as she heard the front door open and put down the book that had been resting against her chest while she dozed on the couch.

"You're late," she called out, gently chiding her husband. "And you better have a good excuse, like a Sasquatch sat on your car or a UFO was chasing you."

"Oh, no, dear," answered Martha with a puzzled looked. "I'm early for me and I have no excuses what so ever."

Kate sat up quickly and looked at her mother-in-law in surprise. Martha had moved to her own condo while they were on their honeymoon, but a pipe had burst night before last and she needed a place to stay during the repairs.

"Martha," Kate said as she stood, starting to worry. "I thought you were Rick."

"He's not back from the book signing?" Martha asked, frowning.

Kate shook her head. "I talked to him about 3-1/2 hours ago and he said he'd be home in 2." She picked up her phone and quickly dialed Castle's number, only to have it go directly to voice mail.

Martha frowned. "Maybe he stopped for some coffee or to take a break, and the phone is out of range?" she suggested.

Beckett nodded. "Yeah – I'll try again in a little while," she said.

"I'll put on some coffee," Martha said, knowing that neither of them would get any sleep now.

# # # # # # # # #

"Image my surprise when I was passing through and saw that my favorite author would be signing books," said Tyson. "By the way, thanks for the autograph. I will treasure it forever."

"What do you want?" Castle all but growled, feeling helpless.

"I'm hurt," Tyson responded. "A friend can't lend a friend a helping hand?"

"You're not a friend," Castle retorted.

"Eh," Tyson shrugged. "Let's just say I have a vested interested in your not dying out here. Who would I play with if that happened?"

"Then why aren't you calling anyone?" Castle remarked sarcastically. "Telling them where I am? Since I obviously can't." He shifted against the wheel again and grunted in frustration.

"And let them know I'm alive? After all the trouble I went to to die on the bridge? Not very smart on my part." Tyson bent lower and brushed the matted hair back from Castle's forehead. "That looks nasty – probably gonna leave a scar. But I can recommend a great plastic surgeon. No wait," he said innocently, "you've already met."

"Yeah, thanks for that treat," Castle said. "It made my day."

"A better day than that deer up there is having," commented Tyson as he settled against the hood. "It was really remarkable how you took it out."

Castle groaned as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the headrest.

"Really, Rick – may I call you that? Remorse over an animal? It's just a large squirrel." Tyson frowned at him. "You murder people for a living – I'm surprised you don't have more balls than that."

"It's a living creature," replied Castle, looking at Tyson again. "But that wouldn't interest you, would it?"

"Just another annoyance that got in the way," Tyson responded casually. "Not as much fun as hunting people though – seeing the light drain out of their eyes as they take their last breath and realize they are powerless to stop it."

"You're a sick bastard," Castle commented.

"But I'm a free sick bastard, unlike you with 3500 lbs of car wrapped around you." Tyson settled on the hood, smiling. "Your lovely bride has probably realized by now that something has happened – she may even have alerted the police to search for you." He then looked up at the ridge above them. "You're not very far off the road – some passing work crew will see you eventually, so how do you suggest we pass the time?

"Oh, I know," said Tyson, holding a water bottle and smiling ferally. "Our discussion was so rudely interrupted at the motel since I had to leave so quickly. What about I tell you mine and you tell me yours…you know, what draws you to the darkness? A story for some water?"

Castle closed his eyes wearily and leaned his head back against the headrest again. This was going to be a long night.

# # # # # # # # #

"Thanks for coming," Beckett said as Ryan and Espo walked into the precinct, both stifling yawns. "Sorry to call you in so early."

"No problem," said Espo. "I think I'm allergic to sleep any way."

Ryan nodded in agreement. "So how long has Castle been missing?"

"He should have been home about 11 pm last night. He did a book signing in Newburgh yesterday evening and Paula said he left between 8:15 and 8:30. I talked to him about 9, so he must have been on the road then. Martha came in about 12:30 this morning and he wasn't home yet," Beckett answered. "I've tried calling his phone and it was going to voice mail for a while, but now his voice mail box is full."

"Have you filed a missing person's report yet?" asked Espo.

"Just a few minutes ago," Beckett replied. "I faxed his picture, a picture and description of the car, and the license plate number to the Newburgh police department and to the NYSP. They said they'll have their units start looking now."

"Did he say what route he was taking – I-87 or the Palisades?" asked Ryan.

Beckett shook her head. "No, and he would have called if he had stopped some place or had car trouble."

They all glanced over at the elevator as it dinged and Lanie walked out.

"Espo called me and said Castle was missing," she said.

Beckett nodded, swallowing thickly. "He didn't come home from a book signing last night."

Lanie nodded. "So what are we waiting for, girl? Let's go find your man."

# # # # # # # # #


	3. Chapter 3 - His Story

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks so much for all the follows, reviews, and favorites. That means a lot. And yeah, Castle has been renewed for season 7!

Sorry for the delay in posting. I was torn between making this a psychological drama (is it all in Castle's head and we never know) or a thriller (nope – he's back) and finally decided which way to go, because I'm the type of person who wants to see the top fall (for those of you who have seen Inception). And I've also been trying to decide on Tyson's back story which of course is AU.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 3 – His Story**

"_Oh, I know," said Tyson, holding the water bottle and smiling ferally. "Our discussion was so rudely interrupted at the motel since I had to leave so quickly. What about I tell you mine and you tell me yours…you know, what draws you to the darkness? A story for some water?"_

_Castle closed his eyes wearily and leaned his head back against the headrest. This was going to be a long night. _

# # # # # # # # #

Castle finally opened his eyes and stared at Tyson. "So how do I know that you're not some delusion resulting from a concussion? Or that I'm not in some weird Twilight Zone episode?"

"Because I don't think a delusion can do this," said Tyson, opening the water bottle and holding it to Castle's lips. "I myself am partial to the Outer Limits."

Castle took a sip and then, much to his dismay, nodded automatically at Tyson, because, hell, it would be rude not to thank the man for the drink and his mother taught him better manners than that. And he had been incredibly thirsty. He must have been out for a while.

"So should I go first or do you want to?" Tyson asked as if they were two friends continuing an earlier conversation that had been interrupted. "Maybe you should since that knot on your head looks like a goose egg – to help you stay awake so you don't slip into a coma."

"That's a misconception," Castle said dryly. "It doesn't hurt if a person falls asleep after a concussion if they are not nauseated, exhausted, or babbling incoherently. I'm only nauseated because you're here and I'm not babbling incoherently – exhausted, yes, but it's been a long day."

"The babbling incoherently is a matter of opinion," Tyson remarked. "But then again, you've always had the gift of gab, whether or not it made any sense."

"Fine," conceded Castle with a snort. "Let's talk about you first – I'm sure my story isn't as exciting."

Tyson stared into the distance before he started. "As I recall, you said I was raised by a single mother. That's true – like you, I'm the bastard son." He then shook his head. "But, unlike you, I was born in the great Bible belt where being an unwed mother then was still considered a sin for both the mother and the child. So they kicked us out." His brow furrowed in thought. "I don't even know who they are – never met them, never want to. What about you – ever meet your father?"

Castle took a deep breath as he closed his eyes again and sighed almost in defeat before looking at Tyson again. Who was the man going to tell and maybe he'd be more leery of messing with them in the future. "Yes – he's a covert black ops assassin for US government. Even killed someone in front of me. If you want, I can call him."

"So then you come by it naturally – the darkness," said Tyson, nodding. "For me, it was a matter of the environment I was raised in. Nature vs nurture – the great debate for all time."

He was silent for a while. "She was beautiful, pale and blonde – almost like a princess from a fairy tale. We traveled around a lot, never had a permanent home. We'd go wherever she heard she could get a bigger welfare check. And when the monthly checks came in, she'd be happy and we'd celebrate."

Tyson smiled in remembrance and then became angry, bitter. "But then later in the month, when things were tough, she said she had plans and I got in the way. To make ends meet, she'd pick up waitressing gigs. She knew she was beautiful and brought in a lot of tips with the way she dressed. It was like she had no pride, flaunting herself so that men looked at her, touched her. I found out later that she'd do other things for money, things I was too young to know about at the time.

"I'd tell her that I could work and she'd just laugh at me, saying I wasn't good for anything except the welfare money. But then the check would come in and we'd celebrate and she would say that I was the best son ever."

Tyson adjusted his position on the hood of the car. "Then, when I was 10, Gary came into her life. He met her at the bar she was working in at the time. He bought her things, said she was important to him, that he'd leave his family for her one day as soon as the kids graduated from high school. And he bought me things too – I finally had clothes that I wasn't embarrassed to wear to school, food on the table, even a Christmas present.

"When he came over on the weekends, he'd leave money on the table for me. She was the one he'd do heroin and coke with – they would start on Friday night and not stop until Sunday when he'd leave to go back to his family. Even with everything they were doing, that was the best time that I could remember because she was happy. He even gave her a ring."

Tyson watched as the world grew lighter around them as the sun was peeking over the horizon, scowling. His story was best told in darkness so that his face was hidden, around a campfire to scare kids into behaving.

"When I was 12, I came home from school one Friday and she was lying on the couch, peaceful, serene, except for the blood coming out of her nose. She was cold, so I wiped off the blood and covered her with a blanket and sat down to watch TV until Gary came. It never occurred to me that she had overdosed because she looked so peaceful.

"She was dead by the time Gary got there. He removed all of his stuff from the apartment and told me to wait an hour before I called the police. He promised that he'd be back for me. So I waited and called the police.

"They came and took her away. When they asked if I had some place to go, I said that Gary would be back for me, but I didn't know his last name and he had taken all the pictures so I didn't know who he was."

"And he never came back," said Castle.

"Never did," replied Tyson. "Although I did find him a couple of years later – but I'm getting ahead of myself." He paused.

"My first foster mom tried really hard to make things right but it didn't work out. The shrink said I had too much hostility, resentment because I had been abandoned, and eventually, she had to send me to a different, tougher home. Let's say that things didn't work out there either."

Tyson looked at Castle. "You awake there? Cat got your tongue?"

Castle shook his head. "No, just thinking about how great my mom has always been." He paused for a moment, not sure he wanted to hear the end of this story. "You said you found Gary later?"

"Yeah," nodded Tyson. "And the funny thing is that his name wasn't even Gary. When I turned 18 and aged out of the system, I move to the big city. That's where I saw him – out running one night. He was older, but he had a tattoo on his shoulder." He barked out a humorless laugh. "He had said he'd get me a matching tattoo when I was of legal age."

"Anyway, I started following him. He was rich – well off – and still very much married to his wife. He had played my mother and me for fools – he never meant what he said.

"So one night, when he was out running, I stopped him. He was surprised to say the least – said that he wanted to see me but the courts prevented it because we weren't biologically related. But then he said he and his wife had reconciled and that she could never know about my mother. He even said he'd give me money to go away. He pulled more cash out of his wallet than I had ever seen."

Tyson examined his hands. "I seriously thought about it – I did. But like the shrink said, I had too much hostility, resentment, and he wasn't going to play me again. There was no one around, so I pulled out the switchblade I carried for protection and slit his throat. And that felt so good – except for the blood spurting everywhere. I never cared much for blood."

He looked at Castle again. "That's when it started. The police never solved his murder – attributed it to a mugging. And the power I felt seeing the light drain out of his eyes – it was like an addiction – that he knew he was powerless to stop what I had done to him, like what he had done to me. I felt free then."

Tyson paused again. "I really did try to go straight after that, have a normal life. I even had a girlfriend for a while – a pretty blonde – but she said I was too controlling, too jealous of anyone who even looked at her. So she left without saying goodbye, just left one day when I was at work."

"Abandoned you just like your mother," Castle said, staring at Tyson.

"I waited patiently and a couple of years later, she was my first." Tyson smirked. "The police never solved that one either, or the other two. And I packed up and left town."

He sat up and looked at Castle. "So that's my story. Now tell me yours," he said as he fingered the water bottle.

# # # # # # # #


	4. Chapter 4 - Front Row Seat

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks so much for all the follows, reviews, and favorites. While the city of Newburgh, NY is real, the names of the police officers are fictional. And this story is turning out to be much longer than I first anticipated because I thought of some stuff to add to it.

Yes, I agree that Tyson probably has a defective gene, maybe even attachment disorder with a side of biopolar, even though he is highly intelligent.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 4 – Front Row Seat**

When Beckett had called her at 4 am, Gates had quickly given the team permission to use NYPD resources to look for Castle.

They decided they needed to start in Newburgh and made the 1-1/2 hour trip in record time, Beckett and Lanie in her cruiser, Ryan and Espo in theirs.

The Newburgh police chief was waiting for them at the police station.

"Detective Beckett," he said as he shook hands with her. "I'm Police Chief Eric Strangman. We've set up a command center in the conference room. This way."

"This is Dr. Lanie Parish and Detectives Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan," she said as she introduced her team. "Richard Castle is a civilian consultant in our department."

Strangman chuckled slightly. "Yes, I actually met him yesterday at the book signing. My wife is a fan."

He opened the door to the room, which contained a white board that had several pictures of Castle on it and a map of the area that had locations marked off.

"We're coordinating the search with the NYSP and the NYPD and put out a BOLO on him and his car after we received the missing persons report. They've checked all the gas stations, travel stops, hotels, and motels on both 9W and I-87 between here and New York City. But so far, none of the patrols have spotted him. We've also checked with wrecker companies to see if he had broken down and called one, but no one matched his description. We're currently checking with all ERs and urgent care facilities in the area."

Strangman paused for a moment before continuing. "There is one other possibility. The roads were slick last night because of the rain so he may have gone off the side and be hidden by the brush and trees. We'll be able to see more when the sun comes up in about 30 minutes."

Beckett nodded. "Thanks. We'll be participating in that. Dr. Parish and I will take 9W, and Espo and Ryan will take I-87."

Espo and Ryan nodded in agreement.

"I thought you might," said Strangman.

"I appreciate the help," said Beckett, smiling slightly.

"In the meantime, can I get you some coffee?" Strangman asked the team.

Beckett nodded. "That would be great. Thanks."

She turned to examine the board as Strangman walked out of the room.

The pictures included the ones Beckett had faxed, a headshot of Castle and a picture of them in front of his car. Several others were obviously taken yesterday at the book signing. She smiled slightly as she slowly ran her hand over them, and then paused, focusing on one picture in particular.

Castle stood smiling next to a fan, but it wasn't Castle who drew her attention. It was the two people in the background, a woman whose face was clearly visible and a man standing with his back to the camera.

If the picture had been in the paper, she wouldn't have even noticed because of the grainy quality associated with newspapers, but this picture was crisp, obviously taken using professional equipment.

"Chief Strangman," she said as he walked back into the room, carrying several cups. "Who took this photo?"

Strangman looked over his glasses at it. "That would be Steve Bonner, the reporter from the local newspaper. He was there at the beginning of the signing."

Beckett turned to Ryan and Espo. "Recognize someone?"

They both looked at the picture and swore under their breath at the same time.

Lanie frowned as she looked at the picture. "Kate, I don't understand."

"You haven't met her personally, but you know her work." Beckett pointed a finger at the woman. "That's Kelly Nieman."

# # # # # # # # # #

"So, ready to share yet?" asked Tyson as he played with the water bottle. "That was our agreement."

"That was _your_ agreement," Castle said as he shifted in the seat to ease the discomfort in his back. His legs were free, but the steering wheel pressed into his chest, virtually pinning him in place, and he was unable to raise his hands for some reason.

Castle groaned in frustration. "Okay, fine. Yes, my mother was an unwed mother – she met my father on one glorious, magical night and then never saw him again. I was born on April 1st and she'd always call me her 'April Fool's baby'. I started writing early. When I was younger, my mother spent the majority of her time on the Great White Way, and I spent the majority of my time in the public library."

Tyson sighed. "Oh, Richard, Richard, I'm disappointed. I read that on your website. Can't you come up with something more original?" He peered at him. "You're drawn to death – you write about it, you fantasize about it, and it thrills you. Now, where does that really come from?"

Castle looked away, pausing a moment to collect his thoughts. "When I was 12, Mother was practicing for a play one afternoon, so I went to the library. There was a teenage couple, very obviously in love. They stared into one another's eyes, practically sat on each other's laps. Then he went to get some books and, while he was gone, another boy came over and they talked for a minute. When the first boy got back, she left and the second boy came over to the first boy and told him that she had been flirting with him." Castle shook his head. "When she came back, there was yelling and tears – it was like a bad stage production of Othello. The librarian made them leave. And then I saw them the next morning on the news. He had strangled her on the way home. And it never made any sense to me."

Tyson sat up straighter on the hood. "That's it? How pedestrian." He paused. "But then again, you make up stories for a living…could it be that you made that one up?"

Castle looked at him. "You really expect me to bare my soul to a psychotic serial killer?"

"Yes, if you want water," responded Tyson, gently shaking the water bottle. "But then again, they might be able to find you before you die of thirst. Care to experience that? I'm told it's not pleasant."

"No," said Castle, giving in. "I grew up in the theater. My mother was always dragging me to rehearsals, opening nights, and summer stock. The audience thinks all the drama happens on stage, but they would be surprised at what happens backstage. People could do the most hideous things to people they called friends – laxative in a drink, broken glass in shoes, costumes that don't fit suddenly, broken props. It always amazed me how they could treat one another like that and still greet each other with smiles as if nothing happened."

"Never murder?" asked Tyson.

"None that could be proven," commented Castle, looking away. He would be damned if he told Tyson the real reason death attracted him. He closed his eyes again, rested his head against the headrest, and hoped that help would come soon.

# # # # # # # # #

The flash of morning sun bouncing off the brown and white in the bushes caught Trooper K.C. Perkins' attention as she drove slowly down 9W, looking for skid marks that signified a car had gone off the side of the road. She pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road and then looked both ways before crossing over the other side of the read.

She carefully navigated the puddles in the ditch to reach the bushes and then knelt to look at the pieces of broken plastic. Pulling out her phone, she took several pictures and then walked back to her squad car and picked up the radio.

"Dispatch, this is Perkins on 9W about a fourth of mile north of Storm King State Park. I think I've found the plastic deer that Mrs. Clayton's reported missing from her front yard yesterday morning. Looks like someone threw it from a truck, so it's totaled."

"Roger," said the dispatcher.

"It also looks like there are some faint skid marks – a car may have gone off the road here. I can't see anything from this position, so I'm going to take a closer look."

"Roger," said the dispatcher again. "Keep us updated."

"Will do," said Perkins as she walked over to the edge of the embankment and peered down into the trees.

# # # # # # # # #

Tyson looked up at the road as they both heard the car stopped. "This might be your lucky day," he said as they heard the car door open and shut.

A few minutes later, he smiled eerily as he looked through the branches. "Or it might be mine. You grew up in the theater, Richard. Maybe I'll give you a front row seat to what I do."

Tyson reached in and angled the rear viewer mirror higher so that Castle could see the trooper on the embankment, crouching down to examine the area.

# # # # # # # # #

Strangman and the team were going over the plans again when a deputy walked in.

"Sir, Perkins just radioed in. She found Mrs. Clayton's deer and reported faint skid marks about a fourth of mile north of Storm Creek State Park. She's checking the area now."

"Perkins?" asked Ryan, frowning. He quickly walked over to a wall and took down one of the pictures he had seen earlier. "Beckett, this is Officer Perkins," he said, holding up the picture of Perkins receiving an award.

Beckett's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at the young trooper whose blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she whirled to face Stangman.

"Chief Strangman, call Perkins and tell her to stay in her car. And if she's approached by anyone, to leave the area immediately."

Strangman frowned. "I don't understand."

"Do you remember 3XK?" Beckett asked.

"Yeah, but I thought he died a couple of years ago," the chief replied.

"He may have, but we're not sure. This woman surgically altered 2 people to look like Detective Esposito and Dr. Parish last year," said Beckett, pointing at the picture. "They stole his files from the NYPD, and then they were killed the same way he killed people. And 3XK targeted young blonde women."

"And Perkins fits the profile," Stangman said before racing out of the room.

# # # # # # # # #


	5. Chapter 5 - And The Play Begins

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks so much for all the follows, reviews, and favorites. While the city of Newburgh, NY and other locations in New York are real, the names of the characters are fictional. And this story is turning out to be much longer than I first anticipated.

Yes, I agree that Tyson probably has a defective gene, maybe even attachment disorder with a side of biopolar, even though he is highly intelligent.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 5 – And the Play Begins**

Tyson watched as Perkins finally spotted what she thought could be the car and started down the slight hill towards them. As Castle was taking a breath to yell, he quickly covered his mouth with duct tape and then adjusted the rear view mirror to focus on the area behind the car. "There – now you have a perfect front row seat."

Tyson jumped off the hood and walked towards the back of the car, motioning with his arms to the trooper, showing her that his hands were empty.

"Hey, officer – I was hiking in the woods and came across this car," he yelled as she got closer. "There's no sign of the driver though. He must have gone back up to the road to flag someone down after it happened."

"Is there anyone else in the car?" Perkins asked.

"No, and the engine is cold. Must have happened last night during the rain," Tyson added as she walked past him to take a picture of the license plate.

"Thanks. I'll call it in. It matches the description of a car that went missing." She clicked the picture and then turned back to Tyson. "So you didn't see the driver?"

"No, but I came from that way," said Tyson, pointing back towards the woods. "He'd go to where he thought he could get help."

Perkins nodded. "Can I get your name and a contact number in case we need any more information?"

Tyson shrugged. "Sure – Phil Barrow from Boston. 617-555-2098. My wife and I are staying that the park for the week, but my cell phone doesn't work there."

"Thank again," Perkins said as she wrote down the information. She paused as the blinking taillights caught her attention.

Tyson looked over his shoulder and took a breath. "Must be a short – that's what caught my attention too."

Perkins nodded and fished a card out of her front shirt pocket. "Here's my contact information in case you come across something during your walk back to the park. Please call me at any time."

She paused again, watching the taillights, as she held out the card. "That's not a short – that's Morse code," she said as she pushed past him and walked up to the side of the car.

Perkins bent to look inside and started when she saw Castle sitting there, his mouth taped shut.

He looked at her, his eyes wide, and vocalized something that she couldn't understand.

She was about to reach in when she saw Tyson advancing towards her in the side mirror and quickly drew her gun, pointing it at him.

"Step back, sir, hands up," she said.

Perkins reached through the window and quickly pulled the tape off of Castle's mouth.

He worked his mouth for a moment and then looked at her. "Get out of here," he said hoarsely. "Run. He'll going to kill you. He's the 3X killer."

Perkins looked at Tyson and raised her gun slightly higher. "Down on the ground now," she demanded. "Hands over your head."

"No, I think not," said a female voice from the other side of the car. "You were gone for so long, dear, I thought I should come check on you." Nieman flicked on the butane lighter she carried and moved it towards the car. "Back off or Mr. Castle dies a horrible death. Now, leave and turn on your siren so I know you've gone."

Perkins shook her head. "Sorry, I can't do that."

"Yes, you can," said Castle. "Go – you can't do anything for me if you're dead."

Perkins looked at him hesitantly.

"Go," whispered Castle.

Perkins nodded and then backed up the hill, keeping the gun trained on Tyson as she went.

Nieman turned the lighter off when they heard the car door slam and the siren as Perkins sped away. She looked at Castle.

"Always so gallant – trying to play the hero," Nieman said. "Not that it's going to help you now."

# # # # # # # # # #

As Perkins sped away, she radioed in her location and what had happened. She waited several minutes and then turned the siren off, waiting as instructed for the team to join her several miles from the original location.

"There were 2 of them, sir," she told Strangman when he arrived with the team. "Mr. Castle is pinned in the car and they threatened to burn it if I didn't leave."

Strangman nodded. "You did the right thing. Now, I want you to go back to the station and give a detailed report and a description of the suspects."

"Yes, sir," said Perkins as she turned and got back in her car.

Strangman turned to look at Beckett. "I'm calling in SWAT. It'll take about 30 minutes for them to get here."

SWAT arrived shortly afterwards, setting up a roadblock and quickly deploying a drone. The NYSP had set up a roadblock south of the location of the car.

"Sir, I don't see any movement around the car," said the operator as he watched the feedback on the screen.

The SWAT commander nodded. "Let's go in silent, gentlemen."

Wearing their vests, rifles on the ready, the officers carefully approached the car, treading as quietly as possible through the underbrush.

They paused as movement was seen inside the car as a twig cracked. "Hey! Hey, you guys!" came the voice from inside the car. "Here! I'm here!"

"Mr. Castle, are you all right?" the team lead asked him as he looked through the window.

"Hell, no," came the reply. "I'm stuck in this car. Get me out now!"

The team leader chuckled slightly as he motioned for the rest of the team to secure the area.

Beckett was the first one to reach the car when the others were allowed into the area. "Castle! Castle!" she said as she knelt down by the window. "Hey, babe – looks like you had some trouble."

He shook his head, smiling at her. "Do you think that the IRS will let me write this off as research?"

Beckett laughed as she stroked his face. "The fire department will be here in a minute to get you out."

# # # # # # # # # # #

It took almost half an hour for the fire department to pry the car open using the jaws of life, with the EMTs carefully monitoring his vitals for any change.

They finally loaded him onto a gurney and raced off to the hospital for him to be checked out.

At the hospital, Beckett and the team waited impatiently until the doctor finally came out and said he was amazed that Castle was doing as well as he was. He'd probably be sore for a couple of days from the impact of the air bag, but there were no signs of head trauma, and the doctor saw no reason for him to be admitted.

Beckett smiled as they wheeled him out. "Ready to go home?" she asked, leaning down to kiss him.

He moved away slightly, pointing to his lip that had several stitches in it. "Sorry, babe – can I have a rain check?"

# # # # # # # # # # #

Beckett pulled into the underground parking lot at the loft and then looked at Castle as they walked to the elevator. "I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried."

He shrugged. "I'm just incredibly lucky." He felt around for his keys and then paused. "I think they're still in the ignition."

Beckett laughed softly and waved her fob in front of the panel. "I think you had other things on your mind."

After she unlocked the door and walked in, he followed her and shut the door.

Before they could make it into the living room, Beckett turned and caught him in a tight hug, laying her head on his chest. "I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered.

"Oh, careful," he said. "Bruises, bruises."

Beckett frowned at him as he extracted himself from her grip.

"Actually," he said, pointing to the bedroom. "I've got a headache, so I think I'm going to lie down for a while."

"Sounds good to me," said Beckett, smiling. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Yeah, that's probably not a good idea," he said, scrunching his face at her. "I'll just lie down alone – sleep off this headache." He walked towards the bedroom door.

"Okay," replied Beckett, slightly taken back. "I need to go to the precinct anyway and give my report to Gates." She paused as she reached the front door. "You'll be okay right – you'll follow doctor's orders and not drive."

He nodded and smiled at her as he held up his hand offering the scout hand sign. "Scout's honor. I'll behave."

"Okay," Beckett said as she walked out of the loft, closing the door behind her, pausing again at their odd conversation.

He watched her leave and moved back into the kitchen area, surveying the loft with a satisfying smile.

They had told him that Richard Castle was rich, and damn, the man really was.

He opened the door to the liquor cabinet, perusing the bottles, and finally settling on one of the more expensive ones that he poured into a glass and took a whiff, enjoying the aroma, as he swirled it in the glass.

He had 24 hours to complete his task and get his payoff, and he was definitely going to enjoy it.

# # # # # # # # # #


	6. Chapter 6 - Discovered

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews. And I just want to let you know that I don't write fics about sexual assault – never have, never will. And, no wait – my car crash and 3XK plot was first – just kidding. Can't wait to see how AM resolves the cliff hanger in the fall and who the baddie is if there is one. I personally think it's aliens – the ET kind. Rated T for language.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 6 – Discovered**

# # # # # # # # # #

Glass in hand, he prowled through the downstairs of the loft, a sly smile on his face, running his hands over the appointments, turning the fireplace on and off and then on again.

Yeah, if he had money, this is what his place – his pad – would definitely look like, albeit on a much smaller basis. And he would have that money soon.

The next stop was the bedroom. It was masculine, but the bathroom was amazing – the Jacuzzi tub, the glass shower, fluffy towels on the towel racks. Castle was a man who definitely liked his creature comforts.

As much as he wanted to linger, he knew he was on a deadline. The Mrs. could show back up any minute, and then the jig would be up, and he needed to be gone before then.

He showered quickly, wrapped the luxurious towel around his waist, and shaved using a high-end razor he found that gave him one of the best shaves of his life.

He splashed on the expensive aftershave and quickly changed into a new pair of blue Zimmerli silk boxers, a crisp lilac shirt left open at the neck, and a navy pin-striped suit. Navy socks and a pair of brown Bruno Magli Rammolas rounded out his presentation.

He spent several minutes admiring himself in the mirror, making sure his hair was just so, before walking out of the bedroom.

Now, since he didn't have access to a car, how would he get to the precinct? The subway? A cab? No, a town car. That definitely fit the image he was trying to portray.

He walked out of the loft and smirked at his reflection as he waited for the elevator. The clothes definitely made the man and he was the man now.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Detective Beckett," said Trooper Perkins as she walked into the conference room at the 12th.

"Trooper Perkins, thanks for coming on such short notice," said Beckett, smiling at her as they shook hands. "Please have a seat."

"I'm glad I can help," Perkins replied as she sat down. "I met with the sketch artist earlier this morning, but I only got a clear look at the woman. The man was wearing a baseball hat, sunglasses, and a hoodie."

Beckett nodded. "We got the sketch earlier. It's definitely Kelly Nieman. But I wanted to ask what you remembered about the man who was threatening you. We think it may have been Jerry Tyson."

Perkins took a breath and nodded. 3XK was standard cop lore.

"Sure," she said. "I was driving south on 9W and spotted the deer statues that Mrs. Clayton's reported missing yesterday morning on the left side of the road. When I walked back to my cruiser, I noticed some faint skid marks on the right side of the road. It took me a couple of minutes, but I finally saw the tail lights flashing in the brush and went to investigate.

"That's when the man – Tyson – walked up to me. He said he had been come from the park and had been walking in the woods and had just seen the car. He said there wasn't anyone in the car. I asked for his information and he gave it to me, but it was fake. There isn't any Phil Barrow from Boston. And the number he gave me – 617-555-2098 – is disconnected.

"Then I noticed that the tail lights were flashing. Tyson said that the car had a short, but I recognized the pattern – it was SOS. I walked over to the car and saw Mr. Castle in the front seat. He was pinned by the steering wheel and his mouth was taped shut. I was about to take the tape off when I saw Tyson approaching me, so I drew my weapon. He backed off and I removed the tape from Mr. Castle's mouth. He told me to get out of there – that the man was 3XK and he was going to kill me.

"I told Tyson to get down on the ground, but that's when the woman – Dr. Nieman – walked up. She was holding a lighter and threatened to burn the car if I didn't leave. Mr. Castle told me to go, that I couldn't help him if I was dead, so I left and called it in."

Perkins looked down for a moment and then back at Beckett. "I'm sorry, Detective – I should have stayed."

Beckett shook her head. "No, you did the right thing. They would have killed you if you had stayed."

Perkins nodded, semi-reassured she had done the right thing.

Espo poked his head into the room. "Tori just got the DVD of the rescue."

"Thanks, Javi," Beckett said. She looked at Perkins. "Chief Strangman sent you back to the police station before the rescue. Care to see it?"

"Sure," said Perkins, smiling.

Beckett smiled back and walked her to the tech room where Tori stood by the computer.

"Trooper Perkins, this is Tori Ellis," Beckett said as she introduced them.

Both women nodded at each other, then Tori turned on the recording and the monitor screen lit up.

Beckett watched the DVD with tears in her eyes that she refused to let fall. She hadn't seen the rescue first-hand either because the fire fighters made them stay by the cruisers so they could work, but she had known it was serious when they brought in the jaws of life.

She smiled at Castle sprouting one liners as the fire fighters slowly dismantled the car around him.

"Leave it to Castle to find the funny side in anything," smirked Espo as he watched the DVD.

After a few minutes, Perkins moved forward, frowning, and then looked back at Beckett and Espo. "Detectives, this may sound crazy, but I don't think that's the same man I saw in the car," she said, shaking her head.

"Why do you say that?" Beckett asked, puzzled.

Perkins looked at Tori. "Can you go back before the fire fighters put the blanket over Mr. Castle and freeze and enlarge it?"

"Sure," said Tori. Moments later a close-up of Castle's face appeared on the monitor.

Perkins pointed at his mouth. "See – this guy has a cut lip. It looks like it happened a couple of days ago based on the scabbing and the color of the bruises. When I took the tape off of Mr. Castle's mouth, his lip wasn't cut. If it had been, he would have bled like a stuck pig. A couple of years ago, my younger brothers taped each other's mouths shut with duct tape. One of them had a cut lip and, when he pulled it off, there was so much blood that he thought he was going to die."

It was Beckett's turn to frown. "Maybe that happened after you left?" she asked.

"If it did, he would have blood on his face and shirt, and he doesn't," said Perkins, pointing to the spotless light-color shirt Castle was wearing.

Beckett stared at the monitor as awareness dawned on her. "I left him at the loft," she said softly.

"Son of a bitch," Espo swore. "I'll get a cruiser over there immediately and pick the guy up."

He and Ryan almost bumped into each other as Espo started to hurry out of the room.

"Hey, Castle was looking for you – did he find you?" Ryan asked.

"He's here?" Beckett replied.

"Yeah," Ryan said, confused. "He's not supposed to be?"

"It's not Castle," Espo responded. "They made a duplicate."

"The files—" Becket and Espo said at the same time and ran out of the room towards their desks.

"What?" asked Ryan as he followed them.

"Castle's a civilian and can't check out files. But they knew as soon as we realized that Nieman was involved, we'd get her files," said Espo.

"And that's the only reason he'd come here," Beckett said. "He's been avoiding me since we found him."

Espo frowned at her. "Good thing too."

They reached their desks, only to find the box containing the evidence against Kelly Nieman gone.

"Lock down the building," said Beckett. "And put a BOLO out on him."

"I'll go down the back stairs," said Espo.

"I've got the front ones," said Ryan.

# # # # # # # # #

Almost home free, he thought as he reached the first floor, shifting the box in his hands. Now all he had to do was walk quietly and calmly out the front door, not calling any attention to himself.

He smiled at several officers who nodded at him but kept walking, focusing on the front door.

Almost out, he thought, when a burly policeman stepped into his path.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Castle. The building is on lockdown. You'll have to wait."

"Thanks," he said, nodding at the man. "I'll just go to the break room."

He turned and walked toward the break room, but made a sharp left to go out the emergency exit at the back of the building.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the door, the buzzer sounding when he pushed it open, and stepped out, only to stop suddenly as Beckett and Espo trained their guns on him.

"Freeze, jackass," Beckett commanded.

# # # # # # # # # #


	7. Chapter 7 - Confession

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews. Rated T for language.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 7 – Confession**

# # # # # # # # # #

Gates sat in silence, studying the man who sat across the table from her in the interrogation room.

Yes, he was a dead ringer for Castle, with all his debonair cockiness, but she noticed a difference right away.

This man sat still, waiting for her to make the first move. She had never seen Castle sit still for longer than a minute – the writer always seemed to be moving, touching things, almost annoyingly so.

"Let's start with your rights," she said as she leaned forward. "You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything, what you say can be used against you in a court of law."

"Uh, why are you telling me my rights? Am I being arrested for something?" the man said.

"Yes, grand theft auto to start with. You were found in Richard Castle's car," Gates responded.

"Whoa – was that Richard Castle's car? Sweet ride…that is until I wrecked it."

Gates quirked an eyebrow at him and then continued. "You have the right to consult with a lawyer and have that lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire. If you choose to talk to the police officer, you have the right to stop the interview at any time."

"Well, I got nothing to hide," the man said.

"Then shall we start with your name?" Gates asked.

The man smiled disarmingly at her, like he could charm his way out of this. "Bill Harms."

# # # # # # # # # #

In the observation room, Beckett looked at Ryan as soon as the man spoke. "Get me everything you can on him – financials, DMV, rap sheet."

The detective nodded and raced out of the room.

# # # # # # # # # #

"So you're not Richard Castle?" Gates continued.

Harms shrugged. "Never said I was."

"And what do you do, Mr. Harms?" Gates queried.

"I'm an auto mechanic by trade, and a stand-up comic and celebrity impersonator by night when my agent can get gigs," Harms explained.

"So why do people think you're Richard Castle?" Gates asked, sitting back in her chair.

"Well, everyone says I look like him," Harms smiled.

"But why do you look exactly like Richard Castle?" Gates asked. "Most impersonators don't look quite like the person."

Harms shrugged. "My agent said I was looking old and needed to have some work done, and I thought, why the hell not, let's go all the way."

"Tell me why you were in Mr. Castle's car last night," Gates said.

"Well, Richard Castle was in Newburgh signing books yesterday and I have a friend who runs a bar there. He suggested I come up and hang out with the patrons – so they'd buy more drinks – buy the author a drink, get a free autograph."

"So you were scamming people into thinking you were Richard Castle?" Gates questioned.

"Oh, no," said Harms, shaking his head, feigning innocence. "My friend made a poster and had 'celebrity lookalike' on it. So we were on the up-and-up."

"Uh, huh," commented Gates. "Now tell me about the car."

"Well, we didn't make as much as we thought so I was hitchhiking back last night. Yeah, I know it's not safe, but I was broke, so what am I gonna do? I got a ride as far as Storm King State Park and then started walking." He leaned forward. "Image my surprise when I'm walking down the road and I come across this car just sitting there – a Ferrari out in the middle of nowhere. If that isn't a sign, I don't know what is.

"So I yelled to see if anyone was in the area and no one answered. Then I got in the car and tried to start it, but it wouldn't. It must have died on Mr. Castle and he walked off to get help. I popped the hood to see what was wrong and tinkered with it for a few minutes, and it started right up. I hadn't seen Mr. Castle the way I came, so I thought I would drive until I found him.

"So I'm going down the road and this damned deer jumps out in front of the car and I slam on the brakes. Scared the shit out of me and I may have been going a little fast. The car was fishtailing all over the place and next thing I know, I'm off the road and in the trees.

"Anyway, I can't get out and the horn won't work, so I'm think I'm going to be stuck there for a long time. Well, I had had a few last night and must have fallen asleep. The next thing I know, there's this crazy guy on the hood, ranting and raving.

"So then about sunrise, this cop pulls up and the crazy man puts duct tape over my mouth – says he's going to strangle her and I can watch. Now that is not normal," Harms said, shaking his head.

"The brake lights still worked so when she got closer, I stepped on the brakes, trying to warn her. Well, she finally realizes that something's off and comes to the side door and sees me. She draws her gun on the guy and tells him to back off and then takes the duct tape off my mouth. So I tell her to run.

"She's about to arrest him when this crazy guy's wife shows up and threatens to burn the car with me in it!" he exclaimed agitatedly. "So the officer leaves and I freaked." He ran a hand through his hair. "Then this crazy guy and his wife run off and the police arrive."

"Interesting," said Gates. "Why didn't you identify yourself at that point?"

"They never asked, but ma'am, to get out of that car, I would have said I was the pope," Harms replied. "It was a ticking time bomb."

"And what happened next?" Gates asked.

"Well, they get me out of the car, load me in an ambulance, and take me to the hospital."

"And did they ask you for identification at the hospital?"

"No, they never did. It was amazing. I guess rich people live differently than us," he said, looking at Gates. "First time in my life I got preferential treatment."

"And what happened after that?" Gates asked.

"The doctor walked in and said I could go, and then that babe with a smokin' hot body who had been at the crash site walked in and asked me to go home with her. I mean, a man would be stupid if he didn't.

"So we get in her car and she drives me to her place here in the city. I tell you, when we got there, she could not keep her hands off of me. I was tempted, but like I said, I had been drinking and I'm not as young as I used to be so I have a few issues in that area."

He sat back in the chair. "So she said that she was going to precinct and left – I guess she's a police officer. Anyway, I took a shower and was going to get dressed again, but noticed that she's got all these men's clothes at her place. So, yeah, I borrowed some because I looked sort of homeless in my torn clothes and didn't want to get into trouble.

"Anyway, I wanted to find her and set the record straight and offer to return the clothes after I went home and changed, so I came here.

"This guy told me where she was, but when I was looking for her, I found that box on a desk." He leaned forward again. "It's got the name of the plastic surgeon I used on it. I thought holy hell, what's she mixed up in? I've got a follow-up appointment with her next week, so I took the box to read what's in it. I mean, if she's being investigated, I sure don't want to keep the appointment."

Gates nodded. "So you don't know where Mr. Castle is?"

Harms shrugged. "Never saw him. Maybe that crazy guy and his crazy wife killed him and dumped the body."

Gates nodded again. "You do know it's illegal to take someone's car without their consent even if the keys are present."

Harms' eyes widened. "The car was broken down in the middle of nowhere and he wasn't around for me to ask. I thought I could fix it and find him."

"It's still illegal," said Gates.

Frowning, Harms sat back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well, then, I guess it's time for me to call my lawyer."

# # # # # # # # # #

Gates walked into the observation room where Beckett, Espo, and Ryan were standing. "He does have a somewhat believable story," she said. "The DA will probably only press charges on auto theft."

"I would say that story is a little too convenient. He has explanations for everything," said Beckett, thin-lipped. She looked at Gates. "Let me take a run at him, sir."

Gates regarded her for a moment. "Detective, I normally don't allow an officer to work a missing person's case when they are related to the victim. But if it is 3XK, we need to find him as soon as possible. Go ahead," she said nodding.

"Has he made the call to his lawyer yet?" Beckett asked.

"Yeah," said Espo. "And he didn't look too happy."

Beckett looked at him. "Can you get me the lawyer's number?"

# # # # # # # # # #

About 15 minutes later, Ryan came into the observation room and handed Beckett a folder.

She opened it and smiled at Ryan. "Perfect."

Beckett waited several minutes before walking into the interrogation room, the file in her hands.

Harms perked up immediately. "Well, if it isn't the smokin' hot babe again," he said, smiling at her.

"Really, you get a lot of women with that pickup line?" Beckett retorted.

Harms leaned forward. "You'd be surprised at how many times that line and this face have resulted in the early morning stride of pride."

Beckett dragged the chair out and sat down. "So, how long should we wait for your lawyer before we talk?"

Harms squirmed a little. "Yeah, about that – I'm gonna need a public defender after all."

"Your lawyer didn't answer?" Beckett asked.

"He's out of town for a while," Harms replied.

"Not if you called 617-555-2098," said Beckett. "That number has been disconnected."

Harms frowned at her.

"That's the number that Dr. Nieman gave to you, isn't it? Said to call it if you got into trouble?"

"No, I call her office if I want to talk to her," said Harms. "Why would I call a plastic surgeon if I need a lawyer?"

"Because she hired you to impersonate Richard Castle," Beckett stated.

"Look, lady, anyone can hire me to play Richard Castle if they pay enough," Harms responded.

"But the strange thing is that you really didn't look anything like him in your DMV pictures taken last year," Beckett said as she pulled out a photograph. "You're about the same age and do have the same build. Your facial structures are similar. Your eyes are brown though, but I suppose you can use contact lenses to change the color. And your hair was longer then."

Harms shrugged. "Like I told that first lady, my agent suggested I get some work done and he knew someone good."

"Dr. Nieman," said Beckett, nodding. "I'd like your agent's contact information."

"He's out of town – gone to scout talent," Harms said.

"He has to have a cell phone – everyone in the business does," Beckett said. "Give me that number."

"Uh, he's in China – scouting talent there. He won't be back for a couple of weeks."

"So you have both a lawyer and an agent you can't reach," Beckett stated.

"Yeah, I do – I can reach them, just not now," Harms said. "I'd like a public defender."

"That's not how it works," Beckett said.

"But I'm entitled to have a lawyer present when you question me," Harms said, becoming agitated.

"But you said you had a lawyer, which means you can afford to hire a lawyer, so you don't qualify for a public defender. Or are you lying to me?" Beckett said, fixing her eyes on Harms. "So I'll just talk while you try to decide which it is."

Beckett leaned forward. "You're a mechanic but you don't make as much money as you want to. One day, this woman walks into the shop where you work – a really nice looking rich lady – a plastic surgeon. So you hit on her and much to your surprise, she takes you up on it. You date for a while and she pays for everything, showing you a life style you could only dream of.

"Then, one day, she tells you how you can make more money. Agencies are always looking for celebrity impersonator and she can make you look like Richard Castle, but it has a price. She wants you to do something for her. It seems she got into trouble last year and now the police have a file on her and she wants you to steal it.

"So you let her fix your face and she gives you tapes to study of Richard Castle so that you would know how to act. Now, here's the tricky part. You just can't show up here because Castle is here most of the time. But she reads that Castle is going to be in Newburgh for a book signing, so she devises a plan to kidnap Castle then and put you in his place so you can steal her files."

"Whoa – no," said Harms. "I just took those files because I wanted to read them. I didn't want to be mixed up with someone with a rap sheet. What if you're investigating her for murdering a patient?"

"Yes, we are – two of your other co-workers," said Beckett pulling out two pictures.

"Hey, they were there last night at the wreck. She killed them today?" Harms said as he stared at the pictures in horror.

"No, she killed them last year. She made them look like Detective Esposito and Dr. Parish, and they stole the files we had on 3XK. She told them she was going to give them a lot of money, but they never got a dime. All they got was a noose and a horrible death," Beckett explained.

Harms' face paled at her words.

"So how much longer are we going to wait for your lawyer?" Beckett asked.

# # # # # # #


	8. Chapter 8 - Where Is Caste?

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews. Rated T for language. Sorry for the delay in posting. I was stuck-on-the-couch sick for a couple of days, but am feeling almost 100% now, hence the writing. The only good things were watching Iron Man 3, Serenity, and Castle repeatedly. And then I had this dream and strange plot bunny night before last that I had to write that really quickly.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 8 – The Plan**

# # # # # # # # # #

"Half a million," Harms said finally, slumping in the chair. "And a free ticket to Jamaica and a house there – that's what they promised me for the files."

Beckett sat back and nodded, getting right to the point. "So at this time, you're being charged with motor vehicle theft, impersonating a civilian consultant for the NYPD, and kidnapping said consultant." Beckett leaned forward. "Here's the deal and it's a one-time limited offer. Tell me where Richard Castle is and I'll talk to the DA and tell them that you cooperated. That's worth a couple of years off your sentence. Oh, and I'll throw in a new face on the state."

Harms nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay. There's a shack in the woods about a third of a mile north of where car crashed. That's where they were going to put him."

Beckett glanced over her shoulder, knowing that Espo and Ryan would call the NYSP immediately with the location. Her job now was to do her job – put away the bastards who had done this to her husband once and for all.

"They?" Beckett asked.

"Dr. Nieman and this guy. I never really got a good look at him though," Harms said, frowning. "He was always wore a hat and dark glasses." He paused, squinting, trying to picture the man. "And he had this really bad looking beard that was probably fake."

"So what was the plan?" Beckett asked.

"We were supposed to make the switch at the book signing. They'd take Mr. Castle and I'd come back and get the files. Then, after I gave them the files and got on the plane, they'd let him go. But I had this little problem." Harms pointed at his lip. "Got into a brawl the night before last when a guy thought I was flirting with his girlfriend."

"Apparently the plan changed," said Beckett.

"Yeah, Dr. Nieman was really pissed, but the guy came up with another plan. Castle's car would break down in the middle of nowhere and we'd be waiting. We'd make the switch, I'd be rescued by the police, and then I'd get the files. I would call that number and they would have a driver meet me outside. But I guess they were watching and they cancelled the number when you caught me."

"They hung you out to dry," said Beckett simply.

Harms nodded. "Sure looks that way."

"So how'd you do it? Get him out of the car?" Beckett asked. "It took the jaws of life to get you out."

Harms shrugged. "Simple really. After the cop left, Nieman knocked him out with something. We reattached the battery and then scooted the seat back. They took him out, and I got in and scooted the seat forward, and the guy unattached the battery."

"Are you ready to give your statement?" Beckett asked.

Harms nodded grimly. "Yeah, I am."

She stood and looked at him. "Detective Ryan will be in in a few minutes."

Beckett walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She paused for a moment, closing her eyes – we're coming, Rick – just hang on, she thought.

# # # # # # # # # #

As soon as Beckett walked into the bullpen, Gates motioned her into her office.

"Kate, the park police and the NYSP are there searching the area now," Gates said. "They'll call as soon as they find something."

"Thank you, sir," said Beckett as she sat down in the chair in front of Gates' desk to wait for the phone call.

# # # # # # # # #

The combined team slowly walked through the woods, using the aerial photos and GPS to guide them to the location of the shack.

Upon reaching their destination, they realized that "shack" would have been too kind of description for the dilapidated lean-to. It was more of a junk pile covered by a piece of metal propped up against a tree.

"Mr. Castle?" they called as they heard a rustling noise coming from somewhere in the pile. "We'll get you out as soon as possible."

The officers worked quickly to dismantle the pile, making sure that it didn't collapse on itself, as well as watching for snakes. They finally reached the bottom where a tarp covered a fairly large sized object that moved occasionally.

"Mr. Castle, we're here. You're safe," said one of the men as they pulled up the tarp, only to be startled as several cats ran away.

All that was left was a dummy with a note pinned on it and a plastic baggie containing wallet, an empty vial, and a syringe.

# # # # # # # # #

The ringing of the phone broke the staring contest that Gates, Beckett, and Espo had been having with the phone and, of course, they were the first ones to blink.

"Gates," the captain said as she picked up the phone. She listened for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, thank you." Another pause. "Is that all? Good. Can you send them to our CSI lab as soon as possible?"

She paused after she put down the receiver and then looked at Beckett. "That was the NYSP. Mr. Castle wasn't at the shed. The only things they found were a note to you that read 'So very cold, Detective. You're running out of time.', Mr. Castle's wallet, an empty vial, and a syringe. They are sending the items to CSI for analysis. The police said there aren't any other structures in a mile radius of the crash site either."

Beckett sat back in the chair, nodding slowly.

"So now what?" asked Espo.

"We start from square one," Beckett replied, getting up and striding out of the room.

# # # # # # # # #


	9. Chapter 9 - Dress Rehearsal

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews. Rated T for language.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 9 – Dress Rehearsal**

# # # # # # # # # #

Both Harms and Ryan jumped when Beckett strode back in the interrogation room, the door hitting the wall as she slammed it open.

"You playing games with me, Harms?" she barked, towering over him but leaving the table between them. "Castle wasn't there."

Beckett knew that Harms wasn't – he had probably only told her what Nieman and Tyson had told him – but she needed him to dig deep, to see if there was anything else he could remember, and she needed that information quickly.

"Uh, no, no," he said, shaking his head. "They said they'd put him in the shed close to the crash site – that's all they said."

"Then not only did they hang you out to drive, they lied to you," she responded. "Your friend verified that you were at his bar. In fact, you'd come up the day before. If you didn't have a car, how did you get around?"

"Uh, they had a truck that they picked me up in," Harms shrugged.

"And you didn't think that was relevant? What type?" Beckett demanded.

"Uh, white – large – double cab, extended bed."

"I don't suppose you'd have the license plates," said Ryan.

"No, but…it had a camper top. Sometimes, I'd ride in the pickup truck, sometimes in the camper," Harms responded.

"That's a pretty large vehicle. Where was it parked when the crash was staged?" Beckett asked.

"Nieman was driving it. We were waiting off the road to get the signal that they were ready for me, you know, after the car crashed."

"How long did you have to wait?" Beckett asked. "What was the signal?"

"A pretty long time. It was close to dawn before we heard it."

Both Beckett and Ryan looked at him expectantly.

"The siren from the cop car," Harms said. "Cell phones don't work well in that area and we couldn't honk the horn for obvious reasons. So they came up with a plan to make the first cop leave the scene and turn on the siren as they drove away. When we heard it, we knew it was time."

Harms looked down for a minute. "This doesn't affect that offer, does it?"

Beckett studied him for a minute "As long as you continue cooperating, no."

# # # # # # # # # #

Back in the bullpen, Beckett looked at Ryan. "Perkins said that the man told her they were camping in the park. See what camping grounds are in the area and if any white double-cab trucks have checked in this week."

Ryan nodded and moved to his desk.

She looked at Espo. "Why don't you go babysit our Castle wanna-be and see if he has any more information to cough off?"

Espo nodded. "Sure."

"And you don't have to be nice," she quietly added. "Give him a little taste of what he's in for in the slammer."

Beckett watched him leave the area and then pulled out her phone and dialed a number she had gotten quickly familiar with since the wedding.

"Hey, Paula, it's Kate. Oh, Rick, you know him – already picking out a new car. Hey, can you do me a favor? Rick didn't want to mention it, but one of the fans walked away with his sunglasses." She cringed at the excuse. "Can you email me the pictures from the book signing? He thought he might be able to recognize the person. Thanks. Yeah, I'll have him call you."

Beckett hung up the phone, knowing that Black Pawn and his publicist would go absolutely crazy if they knew what really happened.

# # # # # # # # # #

Beckett, Gates, and Espo looked at the map of the area they had put on the board. Ryan stood in front of it, reading from a report in his hand.

"Since Storm King State Park doesn't have any camping, the closest camping site is Harriman State Park," Ryan said, circling an area. "Their records show several people with large white trucks with campers rented spots this week and paid in cash – numbers 3, 4, 14, 26, and—" he paused for a moment and then looked at Beckett. "—47 – that's the number of the hotel room where we put Gates up," he commented drily.

Gates nodded. "Have the NYSP and state park police start with that spot."

"Yes, sir," Ryan replied as he picked up his phone.

# # # # # # # # # #

The second wait was a futile as the first had been.

The police had found the vehicle at the site and approached it with weapons drawn because they could see someone in the driver's seat, only to find a dummy propped up in it with a note that read, "You're getting warmer, Detective. It's right in front of you. Third time's a charm, but you've lost valuable time." Castle's phone was found in the top pocket of the overalls.

# # # # # # # # # #

Trying to keep frustration from gaining the upper hand, Beckett stared at the board now nicknamed the Where's Castle board. The pictures from the book signing were carefully laid out in several rows. .

In the top row were the meet and greet shots of Castle and local dignitaries taken by the local newspaper.

The second and subsequent rows showed Castle smiling as he stood with fans, sometimes holding up his new book, starting at the time of the signing and going until an hour past the time when the book signing was supposed to end.

"Hmm," said Espo, looking at the shots. "Who'd think Castle could smile for that long without getting cheek cramps?"

"Well, at $50 a pop, I'd be smiling too," Ryan commented.

"What? No way," said Espo.

"Yeah, Jenny looked it up on his website. Buy a book, get a free autograph; photos and 'signing elsewhere' extra," he said as he made air quotes.

"Really, bro?" Espo asks in disbelief. "I'm definitely in the wrong business."

Beckett rolled her eyes at them. "It all goes to a charity designed to bring clean, safe drinking water to underdeveloped countries."

She resumed looked at the pictures, a feeling of dread starting in the pit of her stomach. Tyson and/or Nieman was taunting them. The answer was there staring them in the face, but they just couldn't see it.

And now, she could close her eyes and see the multitude of pictures of her husband smiling back at her, the edges of his blue eyes crinkled in a smile.

Beckett's eyes suddenly snapped open and she stepped back, looking at all the pictures at one time.

Ryan and Espo were on alert instantly and started to speak, but Beckett raised her hand and shushed them.

Same hair, same clothes, the smile varied a little from picture to picture, but the eyes.

Beckett ran her hand over the eyes on the pictures and then stopped at a certain point and then pulled out her phone, not putting it on speaker so that Paula wouldn't know where she was calling her.

"Hey, Paula, it's Kate again. Listen, who took the pictures? I need to talk to them." Pause. "You did, great. Did you use the same camera all the way through? Uh, huh. Did Rick take a break at any point? No, no, everything's fine. We're just trying to figure out if he had his sunglasses then. Uh, huh. Before that, did someone give him anything – something to drink or eat? Uh, huh. How did you know who they were? Uh, huh. Great. Thanks. Yes, I'll have Rick call you tonight."

Beckett hung up the phone with a smirk on her face.

"Wanna share?" asked Espo.

"Look at the pictures from 1 pm to 4 pm – Castle's eyes don't have any red reflection from the flash. Martha says that his eyes never reflect the light from pictures, which is why he takes such good pictures. Then, after 4:30, they do."

Ryan and Espo frowned as they studied the pictures. "Really?"

"Paula said that photographer for the event didn't show up, so she stayed and took the pictures, so it's the same camera. Then one of the store's assistants gave her a cup of coffee to give him and he developed a headache about 3:30 and then took a break at 4 to go find some aspirin. He came back about 20 minutes later but wasn't up to par after that. She chalked it up to the headache."

She stared at the pictures. "What if they stuck with the original plan?

"You mean switch Castle at the book signing?" asked Espo.

"That would mean they had to have 2 Castle's," said Ryan. "But you talked with him that night."

"Yes, I did, and he exactly sounded like Rick. And everything he said to Officer Perkins is what Castle would have said. It was a dress rehearsal."

"You can't be serious – why would they do that?"

"To prove they could," Beckett said simply.

"So you think Castle is still in Newburgh."

Beckett nodded. "Canvas the hotels in the area. Focus on room 47, paid in cash for longer than 3 days."

# # # # # # # # # #


	10. Chapt 10 - If It Walks Like a Castle

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks for hanging in there with me. I haven't been able to write as much as I've wanted to in the past week. And for all my fellow Americans, have a great and safe Memorial Day. A big shout out and thank you to all of the people who have served and are serving in our armed forces, and their families who have to put up with so much. You are rock stars!

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 10 – If It Walks Like a Castle and Talks Like a Castle, Is It Still A Castle?**

# # # # # # # # # #

"No luck," said Ryan as he turned around from his desk a few frustrating hours later. "There are less than 18 hotels in the area. Only 6 have a room #47 and none of the people who checked into those rooms stayed longer than one night. And everyone paying cash stayed less than 2 nights."

"It's right in front of us," Beckett said, repeating what was on Tyson's second note. "Maybe we're going about this wrong. We're trying to locate Castle by locating Tyson and Nieman. Maybe we should just be trying to locate Castle instead."

She ran a hand through the crown of her hair as she surveyed the board. "We know they switched Castle at the book signing around 4 pm, but how did they get him out of there without anyone seeing him?"

"Put him in a box?" suggested Espo.

"Yeah, mailed him book rate," said Ryan.

They straightened up as Gates cleared her throat behind them.

"Any new leads, Detective?" the captain asked, looking at Beckett.

"No," said Beckett.

"Kate, you've been up almost 24 hours now," Gates said. "I don't suppose it wouldn't do any good to send you home."

"No," Beckett replied, shaking her head. "He's out there some place – I just have to figure out where."

Gates looked at Espo and Ryan. "And you two?"

"No, sir," said Espo, suddenly serious. "Not when one of our team is missing."

"We're here as long as it takes," said Ryan, nodding.

"So what's the plan?" Gates asked.

Beckett thought for a moment. "Check with the hospitals and police in the area to see if any John Doe's have turned up since 4:30 yesterday afternoon matching Castle's description. I'm going to Tech to see if Tory has found anything on the interview tape."

Espo nodded as Beckett walked off and then looked at Ryan. "Hospitals," he said simply.

"I'll check the police reports," Ryan replied.

Gates nodded and then said quietly, "Expand the search to the states around New York, and add the morgues also."

"Yes, sir," Espo and Ryan said in unison, both frowning at the implication.

# # # # # # # # #

When Beckett walked into the Tech lab, Tory was in front of a monitor, watching the tape of the interview. "Thanks for coming in on such short notice."

"Glad I could help, Detective," said Tory.

"So is there anything we missed?" Beckett asked, watching the video playing on the monitor.

The interview was filmed after Castle had returned from his break, so this was the fake. But he sure did act like Castle and talk like Castle. She forced herself not to smile at the witty things he was saying, because this wasn't her Castle and that wouldn't be right.

"There's nothing obvious," said Tory, "but I did see this…" She ran the tape backward to one part in particular. "It's about 10 minutes into the interview."

The reporter and Castle were discussing a plot point of his latest book when a siren wailed to life in the background, making everyone but the fake Castle jump and look for the source.

"See," said Tory, pointing to the monitor. "Everyone reacts but mini-me."

"Mini-me?" asked Beckett.

"I'm sorry, ma'am – the fake Castle." Tory nodded at the monitor. "He was expecting it."

Beckett stood straighter. Maybe this was their break. "Thanks," she said before walking out of the room.

# # # # # # # # #

"Chief Strangman, sorry for bothering you so late," Beckett said over the phone at her desk. "I've got you on speaker phone and Detectives Ryan and Esposito are here. We're trying to establish the time line for Mr. Castle's wreck. You know, when he arrived in Newburgh and when he left."

"Yeah, sure," said Strangman.

"We know that he arrived at the book store about 1:30 yesterday afternoon and that the signing started at 2:00. He took a break around 4 and then had an interview with the local reporter. Then, his publicist says he left about 8:15."

"That's right. We had dinner at Sherry's café after the book signing," replied Strangman.

"This may not mean anything, but during the interview, there was a siren about 10 minutes after it started," prompted Beckett.

"Oh, yeah, that would have been the incident at the café next door," said Strangman. "Sherry was letting Emilio do some work in exchange for food. Apparently he was off his meds and attacked a security guard who was eating there around 4:30 yesterday. Why's that important?"

"We think the wreck was deliberately caused and we're trying to track down suspects," Beckett explained.

"Then he's probably not your guy. He was carted off in an ambulance."

"Do you know where he was taken?" asked Beckett.

"No, but the EMT company can tell you," said Strangman. "It was Tri-State."

"Thanks," said Beckett. "One other thing – how can I get ahold of Sherry to ask her about Emilio?"

"Oh, she's in the kitchen." The voice faded slightly. "Hey, dear, Detective Beckett needs to speak with you about Emilio."

After a few minutes, a female voice came over the phone. "Hello?"

"Yes, this is Detective Beckett. I need to ask you a few questions about the incident that happened at your café yesterday."

"Sure." There was a pause. "Detective Kate Beckett, as in Mrs. Castle?" Then a hand over the phone. "Honey, you didn't tell me it was Mrs. Castle calling!" The hand was removed. "Detective Beckett, it was such a pleasure meeting your husband yesterday. He is so funny – I bet he keeps you in stitches all the time. The stories he can tell…" she said, laughing at the memory.

"Yep, he's a regular ray of sunshine. Listen, I don't want to keep you too long because it's late, but what can you tell me about what happened at your café yesterday?"

"Not much really. Someone had messed up the men's restroom, so Emilio went to clean it. He must have had a flashback while he was in there, because when he came out, he attacked a security guard and was screaming about having to warn people."

"A flashback?"

"Yeah," said Sherry. "Emilio didn't talk about it much but he served several tours in Iraq and had problems with PTSD. We were trying to get him in at the VA for help."

"So, have you known him a long time?"

"No, not really. He showed up about a month ago, said he was trying to get back to his hometown. I think he was from Brownsville, Texas. He wouldn't take a handout though, always insisted working, so I let him help around the café."

"Do you know his last name and can you describe him?" Beckett asked.

"Sure – Emilio Huerta. He's Hispanic, about 6'2", brown hair in a burr cut, blue eyes."

"And would you know the name of the security guard?"

"No, but you can check with Stan at Ace Security," said Sherry. "It was one of his guys. He wasn't hurt and he didn't want to press charges because Emilio is a vet."

"Thank you. You've been a big help," said Beckett.

"Not a problem. Tell that lovely husband of yours 'hi' and to stop by for pie anytime you're in the area."

"We will," said Beckett. She thumbed off the phone and looked up at the boys, noticing Espo's frown. "Espo, is something wrong?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I knew an Emilio Huerta when I was in special forces," Espo explained. "He was in the sniper division. And that sounds just like him." He shook his head. "I had heard he was having problems after he got back. I just didn't realize how bad it was."

Beckett nodded and pressed her lips together in thought. "Let's see if we can find him. He may have been the last person to see the real Castle," she said as she typed in Tri-State into a web browser and pulled up the phone number for the company.

"I've got the security company," said Ryan.

Beckett nodded as she tapped the number for the ambulance service on her phone.

It was answered after a few minutes. "Tri-State Services – how may I direct your call?"

"This is Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD 12th precinct. I need to ask you about a man you picked up about 4:30 yesterday afternoon at Sarah's Café in Newburgh."

"Let me put you through to a supervisor." There was a brief pause with music and then a man came on the line.

"Fred Gantner, how may I help you?"

"Yes, this is Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD 12th precinct," she said, repeating herself. "I need to ask you some questions about a man your company picked up around 4:30 yesterday afternoon at Sarah's Café in Newburgh. We're working a missing person's case and Mr. Huerta may have been the last person to see the man."

"Yes," Gantner said, pausing for a moment. "We got a call around 16:10 about a health emergency at Sarah's Café and arrived at 16:15. By the time we got there, Mr. Huerta had already been subdued. He was obviously in distress, so we took him to the nearest ER facility."

"Do you know what happened to him after that?" Beckett asked.

"Hmmm, yes. They requested that he be transported to the Manhattan Psychiatric Center for observation and he arrived there at 19:30 yesterday."

"Thanks," said Beckett. "One more question – how did you identify Mr. Huerta?"

"The dog tags he was wearing and the driver's license he had in his wallet," said Gantner.

"Thank you," said Beckett and thumbed off her phone.

Ryan turned around from his computer. "The Manhattan Psychiatric Center is three blocks from here."

"It's right in front of us," Beckett repeated. "Ryan, we may not need it, but get a court order to talk to the doctors there about Mr. Huerta. Espo, you're with me," Beckett said as she stood. "We're off to see the wizard."

# # # # # # # # #


	11. Chapter 11 - Hidden in Plain Sight

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks again for all the reviews, favs, and follows, and hanging in there with me. Rated T for swearing. There's one more chapter after this one.

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe and Disney do.

**Chapter 11 – Hidden in Plain Sight**

# # # # # # # # # #

After Beckett and Espo arrived at the facility, it took more than 45 minutes to find someone in charge that they could talk to, and by the time a harried doctor finally walked up to them, they were both almost scowling at the man.

"I'm Dr. Traynor," he said with some annoyance, glancing at his watch before looking at them again. "They said you needed to see me?"

"Detectives Kate Beckett and Javier Esposito, NYPD 12th homicide," Beckett said as she held up her badge. "We need to ask you about Emilio Huerta. He was brought in last night for observation. He's a material witness in a missing person's case."

Traynor nodded and motioned them over to a desk. He pulled up a record on the computer. "Yes, Mr. Huerta was admitted last night at 19:30." He scanned the document and then turned to look at them. "Unfortunately, he's in no condition to answer questions right now and that's all I can tell you without a court order."

"Which we have," said Ryan as he rushed up, slightly out of breath, holding a piece of paper. He handed the document to the doctor who quickly read it.

"Very well," said Traynor almost dismissively. He glanced around the area and spotted a younger man in a white coat. "Dr. Nguyen, a moment of your time," he called.

The other doctor looked up from the charts he was reading and quickly walked over. "Yes, sir?"

Traynor looked at the team. "This is Dr. Nguyen. He's doing his psych rotation and will be able to answer any of your questions concerning Mr. Huerta."

Nguyen looked uncertainly at the detectives and then back at Traynor.

"Is there a problem, doctor?" asked Traynor.

"No, no, sir," Nguyen stammered slightly. "There isn't. I've just never dealt with the police before."

"Then it's time you learned. I'm sure you're familiar with HIPAA regulations and the practice will come in handy during your training here," replied Traynor before he walked away.

Nguyen straightened his coat slightly and motioned to a closed door near the station. "Uh, shall we step into the conference room?" He then turned to one of the nurses, who was watching the exchange with a slight expression of amusement on her face. "Connie, can you get me Mr. Huerta's file?"

"Yes, Dr. Nguyen," she said. After a moment, she handed him a rather large file that she retrieved from behind the counter.

Nguyen waited until they were seated before he opened the file and began to read. "Mr. Emilio Huerta was involuntarily committed last night at 19:30 due to a violent schizophrenic break with reality."

"Were you here last night when they brought him in?" asked Beckett.

"Yes – uh – I started my shift last night at 18:00," Nguyen replied.

"And I thought we had it rough," Espo said under his breath.

Beckett shot him a look and then addressed Nguyen. "Can you describe Mr. Huerta?"

"Hispanic male about your skin color," Nguyen said, nodding at the Espo. "Brown hair, burr haircut, about 6'2", mid 40's."

"And how did you identify him?" Beckett asked.

"Uh, the dog tags he was wearing and his driver's license," replied Nguyen, leafing through several pages. "We just received his records several hours ago."

"I thought all records were available electronically," said Ryan, frowning.

"The system is being upgraded, so some records are in limbo right now," Nguyen shrugged. "Mr. Huerta is in that special group."

Nguyen paused at one page, quickly scanning it. "Since 2013, Mr. Huerta's been admitted to several psychiatric facilities for schizophrenic episodes and recurrent PTSD. He was last seen at the Bath VA two months ago and discharged with a 3-month supply of medication. He then moved to Newburgh and was working at a restaurant called Sarah's Café. He had been checking in with his case worker for several weeks, but about a month ago, he quit calling her."

"Did she try to contact him?" Beckett asked.

Nguyen ruffled through several more pages and then looked at the team. "Yes, she left several messages at the café, but he never returned her calls." He sighed. "As much as I would like to say that we check with all the vets in the system, we simply don't have the time. We're understaffed and there are just too many demands, so sometimes, yes, people fall through the cracks. At that time of his last discharge, Mr. Huerta was not considered violent or deemed a threat to himself or the community, therefore deemed low priority. Unfortunately, yesterday's incident proved that diagnosis wrong."

"What can you tell us about what happened yesterday?" Beckett asked.

Nguyen nodded. "The report said that he went in to clean the men's restroom and about 20 minutes later, came out and attacked a security guard who was eating dinner there. Mr. Huerta kept ranting that he had to warn people. He was quickly subdued and there was a doctor there who recognized him and gave him an initial dose of an anti-psychotic."

"Do you have that doctor's name?" Espo asked, looking at Beckett. That was very convenient, a little too convenient.

Nguyen paused for a moment. "Dr. Neila Melkyn. She works at the Bath VA."

Espo nodded as he wrote the name down.

"What was Mr. Nguyen's condition when he arrived last night?" Beckett asked.

"He was in a highly agitated state and not responding to his name, which was typical of his other commitments. He wasn't aware of his surrounding – probably thought he was still at the café because he kept talking about food," said Nguyen.

He looked at the file again. "What was different this time was that he experienced a flashback, which he hadn't before. Part of his patrol was ambushed in Iraq and he was able to warn the rest of them in time so they could avoid attack. Unfortunately, the man he attacked yesterday was of Middle Eastern descent which could have been triggered the flashback.

"When Mr. Huerta arrived here last night, he knocked out an orderly and tried to escape, again stating that he had to warn people but he couldn't tell us why. Then he tried again to escape around 13:00 hours today. We've had to restrain him and put him in solitary confinement. Since then, his condition has rapidly deteriorated. I'm sorry, Detective, but I doubt he'd be able to answer any questions at this point."

"It's important that we talk to him as soon as possible," said Beckett.

"We're adjusting his medications, so he may be more lucid tomorrow," said Dr. Nguyen. "Perhaps if you try then…" he suggested.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and a nurse stuck her head in the room. "Dr. Nguyen, you wanted the latest results for Mr. Huerta's blood work. The lab just posted them."

"Thanks, Gwen," said Nguyen. "Is that all, Detective?"

Beckett pulled out a card and handed it to Nguyen. "Thank you for your time, doctor. Please call me when you think Mr. Huerta will be able to answer questions."

Nguyen put the card in his coat pocket. "I will certainly put that on my list of things to do," he said as they walked out of the conference room.

# # # # # # # # # #

Beckett frowned as she watched Nguyen walk to the station, only to have her thoughts interrupted as her phone rang. She pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID and grimaced.

Martha? What was she going to tell her about what was going on? She knew about the crash, but not that her only child was now missing and probably in the hands of psychotic serial killers.

"Martha," she said, finally giving in and thumbing the phone on.

"Katherine, dear, I've been trying to call Richard for a while and he hasn't answered my calls. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Beckett, stalling. "It's just that we think last night's accident wasn't an accident – it seems some crazy fan staged it so they could steal some of Rick's stuff out of the car when he went for help. We've been going over the footage of the book signing to see if we can spot the person that the witness said was in the area at the time."

Espo and Ryan rolled their eyes at her explanation.

"Well, I just wanted to let him know that I was going out and to not wait up," Martha said.

"I'll tell him," said Beckett, knowing that she wasn't going to be home anytime soon herself. "Goodnight, Martha," she said as she hung up the phone and then ran a hand through the crown of her hair, thinking what to do next.

"Let's see if we can track down Mr. Huerta's whereabouts for the last month," said Beckett, glancing back at Nguyen, who was talking animatedly on the phone.

"Damn it, Lyle," Nguyen was saying as they walked up. "Someone must have mixed up the samples in the lab. Run the tests again and send the results to me STAT." There was a loud reply over the phone. "Then send someone in there to get some more specimens. I don't care if he went all Sarah Connor on your ass last time – that's not my problem," Nguyen said and then hung up the phone.

He turned to find Beckett almost standing in his personal space and stepped back a little, slightly clearing his throat. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Detective?"

"Yes," said Beckett. "Did Mr. Huerta give an address the last time he checked out of the hospital?"

"Uh, yeah, I think it's in his record." He leafed through the file again. "He was picked up by Carl Matthews and they were staying at Harriman State Park."

Beckett felt a chill go down her spine and knew immediately what had happened. "I need to see Mr. Huerta now," she demanded.

"Look, Detective, it's my job to protect the patients and in my opinion, this is not in the patient's best interest," said Nguyen. "I doubt that he'll be able to answer your questions."

Beckett shook her head. "No, I don't need answers – I just need to see him."

Nguyen frowned at her. "Why? You think he's not Mr. Huerta?"

"No, I don't," said Beckett.

"Are you serious?" asked Nguyen almost rhetorically as he pulled a set of keys from the desk. "Most people usually try to escape from mental institution, not break into them."

"And dude," said Espo as they walked down the hallway. "Sarah Connor wasn't crazy – she was right."

# # # # # # # # # #

The day had gone from bad to worse to cataclysmic – was it even the same day? How much time had passed? His brain was essentially mush now, making coherent thought almost impossible. He just knew that he had to do something…warn someone…and his fight or flight response had definitely kicked into overdrive at this point, making him anxious and jittery, unable to keep still.

He had arrived in plenty of time for the book signing, stopping to grab a sandwich at a gas station on the way out of town. In hindsight, that might not have been the best idea because the longer he sat there signing books, the more his stomach roiled.

He finally signaled Paula that he needed to take a break, saying that he had a headache, and made a bee-line to the restroom in the bookstore, only to find it out of order.

There was a café next door and he bolted for that, making it into a stall without a moment to spare as his lunch came back up in an unglorified reappearance.

He lingered for a few minutes to make sure his stomach has finished revolting and then moved to the sink to splash some cold water on his face. Paula was going to kill him – he had never cancelled a book signing even when he was under the weather due to illness or a hangover – but he wasn't sure he could make it through this one.

He was drying his face with some paper towels when he felt someone bump into him and mumbled, "Sorry."

He frowned as he looked up in the mirror only to see two of him looking back, one bent over the sink, face almost as pale as the porcelain, the other with a wicked smirk.

"Hello, Mr. Castle," said a soft voice in the room. "I told you that we'd meet again."

He tried to move, only to feel a sharp prick in his neck, and his legs collapsing out from under him.

A strange buzzing started in his brain almost immediately and then someone was shaking his shoulder.

"Mister, mister, are you okay?"

Castle stood on shaky legs – he had to warn Kate that Dr. Nieman was back and that they had created a replica of him – but how was he going to convince her that he was the real Castle and not the fake one? He stumbled out of the bathroom.

The café swam in an odd distortion and he finally fixed his eyes on a man in a uniform sitting near the bathroom door.

"Help me," he rasped as the room moved awkwardly under his feet, grabbing onto the man as he reached the table.

"Help me – call the police," he said as the man turned to look at him.

Castle stared – those eyes – you can change everything else – the hair, the face, the color of the eyes – but you can't change the soul that looks back, and looking into their depths, he recognized the coldness, the darkness in them.

"No!" he yelled as he toppled the man, pulling the chair down with him. "No!"

The man smiled slightly at him and Castle felt his body jerk as a stun gun was pushed into his abdomen and then darkness swallowed him.

The next sensation he was aware of was movement and people talking to him, but what they were saying didn't make any sense and he tried to tell them who he was but he couldn't remember which name to use.

He could see light from outside and knew that he had to warn…someone…and whoever was holding him down was a hindrance to his goal, so he struck out, only to be rewarded with another pin prick and darkness.

Now, he was in a gray monotone room that matched how he felt and he knew in the depths of his soul that he had failed and failed in such a grandiose manner that no one wanted to be near him. He had been a failure his whole life and everyone had deserted him because of that, shunning him in shame – his father, his mother, Kyra, even Alexis had left him to go off to live her own life, Beckett for a job in Washington DC.

And he had to do something but couldn't remember what it was, and he was so hungry all he was thinking of was cheeseburgers, and he couldn't stop the tears that fell or the trembling that racked his body.

# # # # # # # # #

Nguyen stopped at a desk with a monitor on it. "That's Mr. Huerta," he said, pointing to one of the feeds that showed a man wrapped securely in a straightjacket and huddled in a corner of a padded room. "Are you still sure this is the wrong man?"

Beckett nodded. The hair was definitely shorter, the skin color wrong – but she was sure they had hidden Castle in plain sight right in front of them.

"Yes." She looked at Nguyen. "You just got the lab results back and they were wrong, weren't they? And what happens when you give a person who's not psychotic anti-psychotics?"

Nguyen frowned. "Well, that would explain a lot of things."

"Open the door," said Beckett.

"Detective, I have to advise against it. The patient is highly agitated. I can't guarantee your safety," Nguyen warned.

"Not a problem," said Espo, drawing up next to Beckett. "I'm ex-special forces – I can definitely take him."

"All right, but it's your funeral if something happens," said Nguyen. "Just motion when you want to be let out. We'll be watching."

He inserted the key into the door and opened it, motioning Beckett and the boys into the room.

The door shut with a quiet snick as Beckett carefully approached the man in the corner.

"Castle?" she said quietly so she didn't startle him, only to watch him curl tighter into the wall.

"Hey, babe," Beckett said as she knelt in front of him, a slow smile starting to spread across her face. "See what happens when I leave you alone," she said as gently turned his face towards her. "Rick, babe, look at me. It's okay – you're safe."

He blinked swollen, red eyes at her. "Cheeseburgers," he finally mumbled.

Beckett nodded, drawing him into a hug. "Yeah, definitely cheeseburgers," she said.

# # # # # # # # #


	12. Chapter 12 - That's Who You Are

**Reality Check**

Summary – When Castle has a car wreck on the way home from a book signing, he visited by a ghost from the past, but is it a delusion or real? Happens in the future after the wedding.

Author's Notes – Thanks again for all the reviews, favs, and follows, and hanging in there with me. Rated T for swearing. I'm adding a little backstory for Castle in this chapter. And now for the final chapter…

Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Andrew Marlowe, ABC, and Disney do. Just playing with the characters.

**Chapter 12 – That's Who You Are**

# # # # # # # # # #

Nguyen frowned as he watched the detective embrace the man and turned on the speaker in the room. "Er – are you okay in there?"

Beckett nodded at the voice. "We're fine – more than fine," she replied. "And this isn't Mr. Emilio Huerta – this is my husband, Richard Castle."

"What?! No way!" Nguyen exclaimed. He whirled to face the nurse at the station. "Get Dr. Traynor STAT. And get me that file on Huerta."

By the time the older man reached the area, Beckett and the boys had unstrapped the straightjacket that imprisoned Castle over Nguyen's protests. Beckett sat on the floor, cradling Castle against her, gently rubbing her hand up and down his back and softly reassuring him that this wasn't a drug-induced nightmare. Ryan had walked out of the room and was standing at the station, reading the file on Huerta that Connie had brought him.

"What the hell is going on, doctor? I give you one simple task," said Traynor, face slightly red from anger.

"First," said Ryan, looking up from the file, "you falsely detained the wrong man – that's Richard Castle," he said, jerking his thumb towards the room. "Which he stated when the police arrested him and again when the EMTs picked him up and again when he arrived here and all of you chose to ignore."

"But he had identification on him," countered Traynor.

"Close, but no cigar," said Ryan as he pulled out a piece of paper from the file and handed it to Traynor. "They look similar, but if you had bothered to look at Mr. Huerta's file, you would have seen it wasn't the same man. I'm pretty sure the identification Mr. Castle had on him is fake."

Traynor opened and closed his mouth several times, almost like a fish out of water, as he looked at the picture. "I don't understand how this happened," he said finally.

"Second, you have him jacked up on anti-psychotics and I'm pretty sure that's not good for someone who's not psychotic," continued Ryan. "So what are you going to do about it now?"

"Shit," said Traynor as he read the latest lab report and then slammed his hand down on a button. "Code Blue – isolation area. Code Blue – isolation area."

The medical staff snapped into emergency mode and soon, Castle was strapped to a gurney, hooked up to a portable cardiac monitor and with an IV line pushing fluids.

Traynor watched the monitor for a moment and then nodded. "Transport him to ICU 1," he told Nguyen. "And I want updates on his stats every 15 minutes."

He looked at the floor before turning to Beckett who stood by the gurney, Castle's hand clutched tightly in hers. She reluctantly let it go as Castle was wheeled away.

"Detective Beckett, you have my deepest apologies," he began. "This should have never happened. If you want to go somewhere where we can discuss your husband's condition in private…"

Beckett shook her head. "No, whatever you have to say, you can say in front of my team."

"Very well," said Traynor. "Unfortunately, there is no antidote for the anti-psychotics that Mr. Castle was given and Mr. Huerta was on a fairly high dosage. We'll monitor Mr. Castle and manage any reactions as they develop. Right now, his vitals look good and he's stable. You do have the option of moving him to another facility, but I want to assure you that despite of what has already happened, we're designed to deal with these types of issues."

Beckett nodded. "No, that won't be necessary."

Traynor paused for a moment before continuing. "What we'll have to watch for is depression, anxiety, and possible suicidal tendencies. We will have someone near him while he's here, but for the next few days until the drugs have had a chance to work themselves out of his system, your husband may be different from the husband you know."

# # # # # # # # # #

True to Dr. Traynor's warning, the Castle who inhabited the body of her husband wasn't the Castle that she knew, even when he had broken his kneecap, even though she knew without a doubt that this was the real Castle.

When he was awake (which fortunately wasn't much of the time), he fluctuated between apathy and agitation, sometimes rapid cycling between the two.

During the apathetic stage, his blue eyes were clouded, almost lifeless, the eternal joy in them dimmed. Then, he stared off at nothing; the other times, she could feel his eyes restlessly following her when she moved so she sat as still as possible, the tension slowly building in her neck and back muscles.

During the agitated stage, when he was semi-coherent, he kept apologizing for what happened, no matter how many times Beckett reassured him that it wasn't his fault. Beckett had thought it had finally sunk in when he frowned and nodded at her and said "Okay."

His short-term memory was also spotty, so when he woke, he would ask the same questions over and over, testing Beckett's and everyone else's patience. Dr. Nguyen called the episodes transient global amnesia and thought it was either a result of the drugs he had been given or the stress of the event, and that Castle would snap out of it when the drugs wore off.

As a result, Beckett never left his side, the one constant thing that Castle could latch on to in the haze that had become his existence.

# # # # # # # # # #

Later in the day, when she thought Castle was sleeping, Beckett stepped out to use the facilities, only to get a phone call a few moments later after she reached the restroom. She closed her eyes and sighed wearily, and then thumbed the phone on. "Beckett."

"Yo, Beckett," said Espo. "We're down on the 1st floor by the side entrance. You missing someone?"

"Yeah," grunted Ryan. "And you might want to bring your handcuffs. He's a might testy."

Beckett hung up the phone, finished quickly, and ran back to the unit, only to find the bed empty and the IV hanging by it, small drops of blood spotting the floor.

"Damn it, Castle!" she huffed and then hurried to the area where Espo and Ryan had corralled Castle.

The detectives were practically sitting on him to keep him from walking out the door in the hospital gown.

"Rick, babe," demanded Beckett as she knelt in front of him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To find that lousy bastard," mumbled Castle as he looked at her, his head moving drunkenly as if he couldn't bring her face into focus. "To end this for once and all."

"Babe, look at me," she said, putting a hand on his face and waiting until she was sure she had his attention. "We _**will**_ find him – we – you and I. But we're not doing this until you're better. Do you understand me?" She fixed him with a stare until he finally nodded.

"Yeah, okay," he slurred despondently and then his face crumpled as he reached for Beckett. "I'm so sorry," he whispered through the tears. "I'm sorry…I couldn't stop him…I wasn't fast enough – smart enough…"

Beckett wrapped her arms around him and rocked him gently. "Babe, you're the smart one – you figured out who he was. And we'll get him – just not today."

Dr. Nguyen cleared his throat as he walked up to the group to let them know he was here. "Detective Beckett, we just got back Mr. Castle's latest labs. If you would like, I think it's safe to give him a mild sedative now, just to help him relax a little."

Beckett nodded and mouthed the words, "Thank you," at him.

Nguyen knelt down beside Castle and pulled up the sleeve on the gown. "Mr. Castle, I'm going to give you something to help you relax – just a little pin prick – and there, we're done."

He stood and motioned to two orderlies who had a wheelchair. "Please escort Mr. Castle and his wife back to his room."

The two burly men helped Castle into the wheelchair and then rolled it away as Nguyen turned to Espo and Ryan.

"Gentlemen, when you were talking to Dr. Traynor last night, you said the identification that Mr. Castle had was fake. Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

# # # # # # # # # # #

The room slowly swam into focus as Castle opened his eyes and moved his hands to rub the sleep out of them, only to find one hand handcuffed to the bed.

"What the hell?" he said and then frowned, looking around the room. Where was he? A hospital by the looks of the white walls and equipment. Damn, he was tired of waking up in hospitals.

But what had put him here? He had been at the book signing and felt ill, so he had gone to the bathroom, but after that, there was nothing – no memories that he could put his hands on.

Now, he just felt like he had a hangover, but he hadn't had anything to drink, had he?

His eyes opened wide in horror for a second – had Paula made good on her threat the one and only time he came to a book signing with a discernable hangover? Had she chained him to a bed and actually cut off his man parts? He felt himself and almost sighed with relief – nope, still intact. But then, why was he here and in handcuffs?

He looked at the bulletin board on the wall across from the foot of the bed and quickly read the list in Beckett's handwriting:

You are Richard Castle.

Your wife is Kate Beckett.

You're in the hospital.

There was a problem at the book signing.

It's not your fault.

You are going to be okay.

Yes, your hair is short.

He coughed slightly to clear his throat as he heard people moving around outside the room. "Hey," he called out, hoping to get someone's attention, "when I wake up in handcuffs, I kinda like to remember how that happened – you know, the kinky stuff beforehand..."

Castle smiled tentatively as Beckett stepped warily into the room, cradling a coffee cup in her hands. "Kate," he breathed out her name and pointed to the list on the wall. "Uh, what's going on?"

"Listen, babe – it's going to be okay and you're going to be okay," she said as she put the cup on a cart and walked over to the bed, sitting on the side of it. She took his free hand.

"What?" Castle exclaimed suddenly anxious as he struggled to sit up straighter. "Was there a wreck? Did I kill someone? Did I commit an ungodly sin?" His eyes widened. "Throw up on someone at the book signing?"

Beckett frowned at him as she studied his face. "Castle?" she said cautiously. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been kicked by a mule – or a really angry publicist if I did anything to tarnish my image," Castle replied.

Beckett smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss him. "You're back."

Castle frowned. "Was I gone?"

Beckett nodded as she sat back slightly. "Yeah – for a couple of days. You weren't you – in more ways than one."

Her words sparked a memory that flashed before his eyes as he saw two of himself in the bathroom mirror and he clutched her hand.

"Nieman – she was in the bathroom and there was another me," Castle said, looking down, eyes wide. He looked at Beckett quickly. "Kate, they made another me!"

Beckett nodded grimly, confirming what he said. "They actually made 2 of you."

"Then my mother was wrong when she said they broke the mold when I was born – imagine that," Castle quipped and then looked at Beckett. "Too soon?"

"No, babe, that's who you are." Beckett smiled at him and shook her head, glad to have her husband back with his quirky sense of humor.

"I think we'd better start at the beginning." He then tried to move his hand that was cuffed to the side of the bed. "But can you remove this first?" He wriggled his eyebrows at her. "Maybe save them for later?" he said in a low voice. "When we're alone?"

Beckett blushed slightly and pulled the key out of her pocket.

"Tell me what you remember," she said, massaging his wrist for a moment.

Castle lay back against the head of the bed which had been raised to a 45 degree angle and thought. "The book signing was in Newburgh. We had a body drop that morning, so you couldn't come with me. I stopped at a gas station to pick up a sandwich – bad idea because I don't think it was that fresh.

"Anyway, I started feeling nauseous about 3 and finally took a break about 4. The restroom at the book store was out of order, so I went to the café next door and – let's say it wasn't a pretty sight."

He paused for a moment as he brought the memory to the surface, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Then someone bumped into me when I was washing my face and when I looked, there was another me. And Nieman said she said we'd meet again…" Castle frowned and shook his head. "I don't remember much after that – but those eyes…Tyson," he growled.

His pulse rate shot up, causing the monitor to sound an alarm, sending several nurses running into the room.

"Is everything okay?" Connie asked as she quickly washed her hands.

"Yeah, we're fine," said Beckett. "But can you silence that for now? I'll call if we need anything."

"Sure," said Connie as she turned off the alarm. "It's nice to see you back with us, Mr. Castle. Can I get you something? Would you like the bed to be raised slightly?"

"Yeah, that would be great. And some water please," he said with a smile.

Connie adjusted the bed so that Castle was almost sitting upright and then picked up the pitcher, smiling back at him. "Be back in a minute."

Castle closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart. "After that, everything is blurry, muddled."

Beckett nodded and then started her version. "You called about 8:30, saying you were on your way home – only it wasn't you."

"Huh?"

"Nieman and Tyson replaced you when you were in the restroom at the café," Beckett replied.

Castle's head snapped up. "Did I – he – walk out of the book signing?"

"No, he finished it and went to dinner with the police chief and his wife."

"Wow," Castle said. "It's nice to know I'm that replaceable." He looked at Beckett. "Even the interview with the reporter?"

Beckett crinkled her nose and nodded. "Yeah."

"Wow," Castle repeated, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Anyway, the duplicate took your car and phone, and called me and then apparently had a wreck a few moments later."

Castle's eyes snapped open and he stared at Beckett. "He took my Ferrari and wrecked it?"

Beckett nodded again and took a breath. "Apparently Tyson and Nieman threw some deer lawn ornaments in front of the car as the duplicate was driving it and he swerved and then went off the road. Wrapped it around a tree."

"I bet the boys were sad," Castle quipped.

"Yeah, a little – they are already betting on what car you'll get next. They said they'd be glad to help you pick one out."

Castle smiled slightly. "But why would they want the other me to have a wreck? That doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't, unless they were planning on having me find the other you instead of the real you," Beckett said. "But you didn't come home when you – the duplicate – said you'd be home, so I put out a missing person's report about 3 am. I called the boys about 4 am and Gates gave us permission to look for you, so we drove to Newburgh and met with the police chief.

"In their first sweep, the police didn't spot anything, but right after sunrise, a police officer saw your car and went to investigate." She took his hand. "An Officer Perkins – she's young, blonde—"

"And fits Tyson's profile," Castle growled. "Is she okay?"

Beckett nodded. "After she found the car, Tyson tried to jump her, but she pulled her gun on him. The fake you told her to leave, that she couldn't help him, and Nieman showed up and threatened to burn the Ferrari with 'you' in it. So Perkins left. That's when they replaced the fake you with the other fake you."

She took a breath. "Perkins called in the accident and we arrived at the scene. The firefighters were able to get him out but had to use the jaws of life. We took..him to the hospital and had him checked out."

Beckett looked down and then back at Castle. "Then after he was released, we went home."

Castle looked at her, eyes wide. "You took him to the loft?"

Beckett nodded, not looking at Castle. "Yeah," she said, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Kate, he didn't do anything – try anything, did he?" Castle's voice rose in anger. "Because if he did—"

"No, babe, no, he didn't," Beckett quickly reassured him. "In fact, I should have known then that he wasn't you – he did everything he could to avoid me."

"Good, good," Castle nodded, looking away, his face flushed slightly with anger. Because when he got his hands on that man…

"Anyway, I left for the precinct because Perkins was coming in to give her statement." Beckett shrugged slightly. "And when she did, she noticed that the man in the tape from the rescue had a cut lip, but the man she had seen that morning didn't."

"So they took out the first replacement and put in another one?" Castle asked incredulously.

Beckett nodded.

"That doesn't make any sense," Castle said, frowning. "Why would they make 2 of me? I'm not a police officer – I can't sign out evidence like the duplicates of Lanie and Espo did."

Beckett shrugged. "I don't know, but your doppelganger did try to steal Dr. Nieman's evidence from the station because we had checked it out and it was on my desk. Fortunately, we were able to stop him in time."

Castle smiled at her. "And you cracked him, didn't you? Made him spill the beans."

Beckett smiled back and nodded.

"Good girl," Castle said, putting a hand to her cheek, caressing it with his thumb as Beckett leaned her face into his hand. "Uh, what happened to me during that time?" he asked warily.

"When you were in the restroom, they must have drugged you, because when you came out, you were asking for help and that's when you must have seen Tyson and attacked him. The police arrested you because they thought you were a Mr. Emilio Huerta, a disabled vet with schizophrenia and PTSD. Nieman had put his dog tags on you and put a fake ID in your wallet with your picture and Mr. Huerta's info.

"Anyway, they took you to the hospital in Newburgh and then that hospital sent you here for observation."

"So how did you find me?" Castle asked.

"After the man rolled on Nieman and Tyson, he told us where to look for you – but that would have been the fake you because the first you didn't know about the other duplicate. He said they had taken you – him – and put him in a shed near the crash. When the police searched the area, they found the shed, but the only thing there was a note from Tyson that basically said we were looking in the wrong place."

Beckett looked down and steepled her fingers together, brow furrowed at the memories. "We started looking at all of the hotels in the area to see if we could find them. The man also said they were driving a camper, so we searched for those and found out that they had been camping at Harriman State Park. The police searched that area too and found another note in the camper they had been using that said we were getting warmer. They couldn't get any fingerprints because it had been wiped clean."

She looked back at Castle. "So at that point, I stopped looking for them and started looking for you. When I looked at the pictures of you from the book signing, I realized that you were different – your eyes were different – from before you took a break and when you came back. Then we found out about the incident at Sarah's Café and tracked you down from there.

"But everyone thought you were Mr. Huerta and treated you accordingly. They gave you the antipsychotics that had been prescribed to him." She ran a hand through the crown of her hair, her hand trembling slightly. "Let's just say it's been an interesting couple of days. I thought I had lost you." She dropped her head and then looked back at Castle with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, babe, if I had just started looking for you instead of Tyson and Nieman, we would have gotten to you sooner and none of this would have happened."

"No, no, Kate," Castle said as he gathered her into his arms and hugged her, kissing the top of her head. "It's not your fault. You were doing your job, following the evidence."

They sat like that for a few minutes.

"What about the duplicate you caught? Can he identify them?" Castle finally asked.

Beckett pulled out of the hug and sat up, taking a deep breath. "There was a mix-up in holding and he was put in with a violent offender who was coming off of a high. The man broke his neck before anyone could stop him."

"Damn," Castle swore again, laying his head back. "And there's no sign of the other me?"

"No," said Beckett, shaking her head.

"Wow," said Castle, starting to run a hand through his hair and then stopping as he felt the short hairs on his head. "Uh, Kate, what happened to my hair?" he asked, pointing to the list.

Beckett grimaced slightly as she stood and walked to the counter, pulling a mirror out of the drawer and handing it to Castle. "To pass you off as Mr. Huerta, Nieman had to make some changes."

Castle looked at himself in the mirror for a few moments. "Well, at least I'm still ruggedly handsome even though I look like a bigger version of Espo," he said running a hand over his chin and then made a face. "At least she didn't have time to do much damage – could have been a lot worse."

He frowned as he put the mirror down and then smiled slightly at Beckett. "You look exhausted," he said as he studied the dark circles under her eyes. This couldn't have been easy for her.

"Here," he said, moving over to the side of the bed and pulling her down beside him. "Rest for a while and then you can tell me about why I was handcuffed to the bed. I'm pretty sure it wasn't for entertainment purposes."

Beckett nodded as she tucked herself into Castle's arms, feeling his solid warmth surround her. "No, it wasn't, but I'm so glad you're back."

"Yeah, me too," said Castle as he breathed in the cherry scent of Beckett's hair.

# # # # # # #

A few days later, Connie walked in with a large red envelope in her hands. "Mr. Castle, these are your discharge instructions; basically, take it easy for the next several days and call us immediately if you start experiencing any problems."

"Thanks," said Castle, smiling and taking the package from her. "I really appreciate all of your help."

"It was a pleasure, but let's not meet like this again," she quipped back before walking out the door.

The two had quickly hit it off when Castle found out that she had his same sense of humor and kept the ICU in stitches during his stay.

Beckett pulled several items of clothing out of the wardrobe and stuffed them into a duffel bag. "There – I think that's everything."

She frowned at Castle as he settled a baseball hat on his head. "Rick, you're taking this whole hair thing a lot better than I thought you would."

Castle shrugged and turned towards her. "It's just hair," he said, "and it grows back pretty quickly."

Beckett studied him for a minute. "You've had short hair before? Childhood burr haircuts? Martha doesn't seem like the type," she said.

"No, but she does like to make a point – vengeful women always go for the hair – kind of like the shearing of Sampson." Castle made a face. "The summer after I turned 13, she was directing Anna and the King in summer stock. I was the understudy of the king's oldest son, who was my friend Keith. Well, the day before the play started, Keith and I went swimming at the Harrisons' pool and took Melaine and Elaine with us."

"And the Harrisons didn't know you were there," Beckett guessed.

"Yeah," said Castle, nodding. "They hadn't come in for the summer yet and Mel's and Elaine's mom said they weren't going to be in for another week, so we were trespassing. And the Harrisons came back early.

"So when we were scrambling out of the pool, Keith fell and broke his leg. Goodbye, top billed and hello, understudy. And my mother, in all her wisdom, decided I should do the part a la Yul Brynner style, as in completely bald. So goodbye hair for the rest of the play. Fortunately, it grew back before I started school."

Castle looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Baseball hats became my friend that summer. Who knew your scalp could burn if you didn't have hair?"

Beckett quickly hid her smile and then looked up as Espo and Ryan walked into the room.

"We've got the car downstairs," said Ryan.

"Looking good there, Castle, though I would have thought you'd be more of a Yankees fan," said Espo.

Castle smiled at the two men. "Thanks, guys." He paused for a moment. "Did you ever find the other me?" he asked hesitantly.

"No – no sign of him," said Ryan.

"Yeah, Tyson and Nieman probably took care of him," said Espo. "But we'll keep an eye out."

"It's not like you can check out evidence," commented Ryan, shaking his head.

"And we learned our lesson after that last escapade," continued Espo. "We've made copies of the evidence on Nieman and have stored it off-site so we'll have backups in case something happens to the originals."

Castle nodded and looked at Beckett. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Beckett said quickly, smiling, and then looking at the door as the orderly walked in with a wheelchair.

"Yo, mon, you ready to escape this place?" he said in a Jamaican accent, his dreadlocks held back by a rubber band, heavy black framed glasses accenting his brown eyes.

"Do I really have to?" Castle asked as he looked disdainfully at the chair.

"Hospital rules," the man replied.

"All right," Castle sighed and then sat down in it.

"Hey, we got this," said Espo as he handed the man a $10 bill.

Castle smirked at him. "You just want me to take you when I go car shopping."

"What, us?" said Ryan innocently. "We just can't do a friend a favor?"

"When we go, I call shotgun though," said Espo as he wheeled Castle out of the room.

Beckett laughed as she followed them. If anyone was riding shotgun, it would be her, unless she was driving of course.

# # # # # # # #

The orderly watched them leave and then pulled out his phone after the elevator doors closed.

"Yeah, they're gone," he said without an accent. "They have duplicates of the files on Nieman stored off-site. Yeah, I'll call them tomorrow morning and let them know after you've moved the funds and I've made my exit."

He thumbed the phone off and walked out of the room and down the back stairs. When he reached the employee's locker room, he pulled a duffel bag out of a locker and walked into the shower area.

Once inside a stall, he removed the black frame glasses and wig he was wearing and quickly showered off the fake tan he had sprayed on his face and hands. Then, on the face that looked like Richard Castle, he quickly applied a brown beard and mustache and slipped the black glasses back on.

His employer had been very amused when Nieman approached him with a proposition after meeting him in a bar. He had been casing the place for a sting operation, but this sounded so much more promising and lucrative.

Only he knew not to trust them; otherwise, he would wind up like his co-workers had – dead.

He grinned as he walked out the backdoor and dropped the duffel bag in the trash bin. Except for that damned wreck, this had been the easiest half-million he had ever made. And he had a new face, one that with a few minor changes, people would think that he looked like someone famous, but not quite be able to place. Yeah, this had worked out very well for him.

# # # # # # # # #

**The End**

_Author's Notes_: Thanks so much for reading, following, reviewing, and favoriting (which isn't a word – I just made it one). Anyway, I'm going to take a break from my OCD (obsessive Castle disorder) and take a break from writing Castle fanfic for a while since I have some real-life projects that I need to complete. I am taking down "Hours Lost Forever" for now and will repost it when I have more written. Thanks again – you guys are great.


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